Mages Three
by ffdrake
Summary: The Veil has been torn asunder and Thedas thrown into disarray. All hope now rests on three mages who only want to fade into the background. The first of Clan Lavellan, the Hero of Ferelden, and the Champion of Kirkwall. Follows DA3 story line with several changes. Rated M just to be safe. Violence, Language, adult situations.
1. The Beginning of the End

**Chapter 1 - The Inquisition  
**

Snow gently fell from the heavens coating the small village of Haven in a veil of white. The bite of the cold winter air was enough to send even the sturdiest of people running for the nearest fire. But despite the falling snow and biting cold, all of the residents of the small village were braving the elements to catch a glimpse of something that'd the small village, nay the entire world of Thedas, had ever seen. Dozens upon hundreds of men and women, some armored and others clothed in robes, were trudging through the ankle deep snow heading up towards the sacred mountain behind Haven that held the holiest of objects. The Urn of Sacred Ashes.

The two groups kept as much distance from each other as possible while still staying on the path. The mages garbed in rune enchanted robes kept tight hold on their staffs as they walked. Their eyes burned with hatred as they glared at their one time jailors and executioner's. The Templar's, armed to the teeth, kept their weapons drawn as they too glared with righteous fury at their one-time charges.

For the past year if one were to even see one of either of these two groups within the same vicinity of each other, it was almost a guarantee that destruction would follow. But now these two groups marched side by side, albeit uneasily, up towards the ruins that were said to hold the ashes of the Chantry's Prophet Andraste. For a conclave, called for by Divine Justina, the leader of the Chantry, had been called. Its purpose was to end the civil war between the Templars and the Mages which had effectively torn Thedas asunder far worse than even the Fifth Blight.

But within the Chantry of the small village of Haven there was one woman who should've been with the Divine, but had yet to make the trek up the mountain path. The Right hand of the Divine, Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, stood within the small side chapel of the Chantry. Sitting before her, illuminated by a single candle's flame, were three thick but distinct tomes. Running her fingers along the golden sun decorating the tome on the far right, she glared down at the other two as if trying to will their contents to change.

Her duties as the Right hand had forced her to read and study each of the two tomes until she had every little detail memorized. The first was the tale of the Fifth Blight, written by one of the heroes of the fifth blight, the circle mage Senior Enchanter Wynne before she died. In it she detailed her journey with the Hero of Ferelden and talked about all she knew about his time before she joined with him.

'_The Hero of Ferelden was of all things an elvhen mage from the Circle of Magi named Alim Surana.'_ Cassandra recited summarizing the book. '_After being conscripted into the Wardens he watched as his entire order was decimated because of the betrayal of King Cailan's most trusted advisor Teryn Loghain. After crawling out of the Wilds with his fellow Warden Alistair, a mabari hound that'd bounded itself to the mage, and a mysterious apostate Morrigan he was seen again in the small village of Lothering. Once they left the village the small group were joined by a Chantry Sister named Leliana and a disgraced qunari warrior named Sten. After leaving the village they appeared next at the Circle of Magi with the treaties of the Wardens in tow demanding the mages support against the Blight._

_ 'The Circle however had been overrun by abominations under the control of one of the Senor Enchanters. Alim Surana did the impossible by defeating the rouge mage and rescuing dozens of his fellow mages and Templars. With the Circles support secured the group, now joined by Senor Enchanter Wynne headed south to Redcliff. There they discovered the village had been overrun by undead under the command of a demon who'd managed to take hold of Arl Eamon's son Connor. Again defying all rational thought, Alim managed to protect the village and destroy the demon who'd taken ahold of Connor thereby freeing the boy of its corruption._

_ 'The reason as to how the demon even managed to get a hold of Connor was son revealed. Arl Eamon had been poisoned by a blood mage under the orders of Teryn Loghain. The poison was said to be incurable, but the Arlessa had a plan. The Urn of Sacred Ashes. An Urn said to hold the ashes of the Bride of the Maker herself. Taking the quest Alim led his small group through the Bracillin forest an in the process securing the aid of the reclusive Dalish elves by helping them cure a mysterious disease known as lycanthropy. It was during their time with the Dalish elves that Alim discovered a long lost magical talent that'd been widely used by the elves of old. While the specifics of how he learned this magic was not recorded, what was recorded was the fact that after his time with the elves Alim went from using a traditional mage staff to a mage staff and a sword._

'_Their next recorded destination was the city of Denerim. Within the city of Denerim the small group sought the reclusive Brother Genitivi, who had been researching the location of the ashes. After searching and not finding the Brother, the Warden found his notes and set off after the Brother._

_ 'As they traveled the north road the Wardens were set upon by a group of Antivan Crows, hired by Teryn Loghain to kill them. Surviving the ambush Alim spared the only surviving Crow earning the assassin's loyalty. On their travels to the location of Brother Genitivi, they passed by the city of Orzammar and secured the aid of the dwarves by naming Bhelen Aeducan the next King of Orzammar._

_ 'Following the notes left behind by Brother Genitivi, the group made their way to the small village of Haven, where they encountered a cult of fanatics who'd come to believe that Andraste had been reborn as a dragon. Cutting a bloody path through the cult, Alim fought against the dragon at the peak of the Frostback Mountains. While he vanquished the dragon, something unexplainable happened. As the dragon died, curtesy of Alim's blade to its throat, the Warden ended up ingesting some of the dragon's blood. The action caused a change in the Warden. He became stronger and faster. His magic also seemed to have increased tenfold. But most curiously was that his eyes shifted from their normal color to a deep yellow_

_ 'After obtaining a small pouch of the legendary ashes the warden and his small group made their way back to Redcliffe and revived a near dead Arl Eamon. With the Arl backing the Wardens a Landsmeet was called to decide what actions Ferelden would take to counter the Blight. In the end Teryn Loghain was executed by Alim after being defeated in a duel by the mage and Alistair and Anora were pronounced to be the future King and Queen of Ferelden._

_ 'With the monarchy decided, the armies of Ferelden concentrated all efforts on the Blight. In a battle which nearly reduced the city to ashes Alim Surana defeated the archdemon and lived to tell the tale. By defeating the archdemon Alim Surana was proclaimed the 'Hero of Ferelden' and was subsequently named the Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden.'_

Taking her eyes off the first book, Cassandra moved to the next. This book was contained a detailed accounting of the 'Champion of Highever'. One Garrett Hawke.

_'The Champion hailed from a long and well known line of mages, in fact the Champion himself was a mage.'_ Cassandra recounted remembering what Varric had told her. '_He managed to get his family out of Lothering just before the darkspawn attacked destroying the village. But before they could make their great escape from Ferelden the Champion lost his sister to the darkspawn._

_ 'After arriving in Kirkwall, the City of Chain's, the Champion became a bottom-feeder, working with a local smuggling group as a mage and enforcer. After making enough money to get his family into the poorest section of the town he worked on trying to provide his family with a better life. An opportunity presented itself when he was approached by the Varric with a business proposition. If Hawke could help fund it, they would go into the Deeproad in search of riches that'd been long lost to the darkspawn._

_ 'After nearly a year of odd jobs, some of which included work with the Viscount, Hawke managed to get enough money scrapped together to become a full partner with Varric. During the year Hawke befriended an escaped Tevinter slave, a dalish elf, a city guard, a pirate, and a Warden deserter._

_ 'It was during their time in the Deeproads that everything went wrong. After finding a rare and extremely valuable idol made up completely of an unknown type of lyrium, Hawke and Varric were betrayed by Varric's brother who locked them in the Deeproads. Somehow Hawke not only managed to get everyone out of the Deeproads, but on their way out they managed to stumble across an ancient cash of riches that would make even the richest of Orlesian nobles seem poor in comparison. _

_ 'Their escape extracted a terrible price however. Hawke's brother contracted Blight sickness during their travels and they were forced to leave him in the care of a passing by Warden scout group._

_ 'For the next few years Hawke established himself as the go to man of Kirkwall. Even the Viscount sought Hawke's support and diplomacy as he tried to balance a delicate peace between the stranded qunari that were residing in his city and the rest of his citizens. Despite Hawke's best attempts the peace within the city eventually broke and the qunari attacked the city. Hawke led a counter attack against the qunari, which culminated in a one on one duel between Hawke and the Arishok, the leader of the qunari armies. Hawke defeated the Arishok, but the battle had forced him to reveal to the whole city that he was in fact an apostate. But because of his actions in defending the City Hawke was named as the 'Champion of Kirkwall' and therefor became untouchable, much to the ire of Knight Commander Meredith._

_ 'With his positon secure Hawke tried to lay low, but without a Viscount the city was leaderless and many turned to him for advice. Despite his best efforts, tensions between the mages and the Templar's began to worsen as Meredith became more and more oppressive._

_ 'Everything went wrong one fateful evening when Senior Enchanter Orsino headed to the Chantry to seek the Grand Clerics help. Meredith went to intercept him and Hawke was forced to act as an intermediary. But before a compromise could be reached the Warden deserter Anders set loose an ancient spell which destroyed the Chantry killing dozens including the Grand Cleric of Kirkwall._

_ 'With the destruction of the Chantry Meredith snapped and ordered for the Right of Tranquility to be enforced._

_ 'The fate of the Warden Anders was unknown as he momentarily disappeared with the Champion. And when the Champion reappeared he refused to speak about what happened._

_ 'Hawke's next action was to take up arms with the mages as he tried to defend the innocents against Meredith's insanity. Eventually Hawke was forced to kill both Orsino, who'd fallen to using bloodmagic, and Meredith. It was during his fight with Meredith that Hawke found the lyrium idol they'd first found down in the Deeproads. The Knight Commander had bought it off of Bartrand and fashioned it into a sword. But the unknown lyrium had a side effect that no one expected. Despite making the Knight Commander insane, upon her death it turned her into a lyrium statue that still sat in the courtyard of the Circle in Kirkwall._

_ 'After the battle of the Circle the Champion and his companions scattered to the winds and disappeared. For the mage rebellion had begun.'_

Taking her eyes off of the second book, Cassandra looked down at the book that was under her fingertips. This was book was not a story, rather a decree. A decree that'd been written by the Divine herself authorizing the creation of an Inquisition whose sole purposes would be to bring a swift end to the mage Templar conflict.

Using the decree she and the Left Hand of the Divine were able to assemble a small army with the sole purpose of ending the war. The only thing they lacked was a leader, an Inquisitor. The one who would be the figure head of the Inquisition and would also be the one responsible for making the choices that would reshape Thedas as a whole. Their first choice had been the 'Hero of Ferelden', but despite the Left's close ties with the Hero, they were unable to find him let alone secure his help. So they went with their second choice of the Champion of Kirkwall, but again they had no luck in finding him either.

With no Inquisitor to lead them the Inquisition failed to do much more than provide security for the Divine. Truthfully this conclave was the first true action the Inquisition had taken, and it wasn't even their action in the first place. It'd been the Divine herself who stepped up and demanded the Conclave. The Inquisition was merely here for appearance sake.

"The last of the mages and the Templar's are making their way towards the Temple of Andraste Cassandra." A soft voice said from behind her.

Cassandra didn't need to look behind her to know who the voice belong too. Sister Leliana, also known as 'Sister Nightingale' or the 'Left hand of the Divine'. "What are you doing here Leliana," Cassandra asked turning to look at the bard turned Chantry Sister turned spymaster. "You should be with the Divine and helping her to prepare."

Leliana huffed and turned her head. "The Divine asked that she be left alone for the moment. She needed time prepare and wanted to be left in solitude for meditation."

Cassandra narrowed her gaze at the spymaster. "I trust you left some of your best with her then?"

"Of course." Leliana said offhandedly. "Ten of my best are watching her from the shadows. She may trust that the mages and Templar's are coming in peace. But I do not."

Nodding to herself Cassandra turned and picked up the three thick tomes. She wasn't sure what she had even gotten them out in the first place. Maybe it was to remind herself of what had led them to this point. Or maybe it was to try and realize something she might've over looked. Either way, now was not the time. She needed to focus on the here and now.

Moving back to the shelf she couldn't help but notice as Leliana's crystal blue eyes followed the movements of the book detailing the Fifth Blight. "Have you had any word Leliana?"

The question seemed to catch the spymaster off guard, a feat in and of itself. "Word of what Cassandra?"

"Don't play coy with me Leliana." Cassandra said putting the books back. "I know that you've been using the Chantry's resources to find the Hero of Ferelden."

"Of course I have." Leliana said quickly. "He is needed."

Placing the books away Cassandra turned to her fellow Sister and fixed her with a knowing look. "Yes he is. But my question is whether you are looking for him for the Inquisition, or for yourself."

Leliana looked decidedly uncomfortable. A common look she wore whenever, and only, when the Hero of Ferelden was brought into discussion. "For the Inquisition Cassandra. Even if I….there is no use in changing the past. I….we should get moving. The Divine will not wait for us even if we are the representatives for the Inquisition."

Cassandra sympathized with Leliana. It was well known that Leliana and Alim had been more than just companions during their journey together. They had been lovers, and more. They were to be wed and were on the path to do so when the Divine approached Leliana and asked her to be her Left Hand. It was unknown what happened between the two of them, but soon Leliana was known as Sister Nightingale the Divine's Left Hand and the Hero of Ferelden had disappeared.

The most devote amongst the Chantry praised Leliana with choosing the Maker over the mage, even if he was considered a hero. Other's romanticized the story making Leliana the tragic heroine escaping the clutches of the evil mage. While others seeking to discredit the Chantry claimed that Leliana had killed the Hero of Ferelden under orders from the Divine herself. But the truth was that only Leliana and Alim Surana knew what happened that faithful day. And Leliana wasn't willing to talk about it.

Motioning with her head towards the door, Cassandra moved towards the main doors of the Chantry with Leliana at her side. "And what of the Champion? Has Varric given you any more information?"

Shaking her head Leliana pushed open the door for the two of them. "No. He maintains the story he told us back in Kirkwall. Perhaps we should just let him go Cassandra. Holding one of Hawke's friends captive won't make him any more amiable towards our cause."

"He knows something he isn't telling us Leliana." Cassandra said quickly as the two of them rounded the corner of the Chantry giving them a clear view of the Temple of Andraste resting on top of the Frostback Mountains. "I don't trust that little dwarf. He knows something Leliana. And I want to know what it is."

Leliana silently shook her head as the two proceeded to ascend the path towards the temple. "As you say Cassandra. But I've checked out everything he's told us, and everything checks out so far. Perhaps we can give him a more official position within the Inquisition. Something that –"

Both the Right and Left Hand of the Divine were suddenly knocked backwards off their feet as green light far brighter than the sun blinded them.

Leliana was the first of the two to recover. The ex-bard quickly jumped to her feet, her eyes shooting skywards trying to find the source of the explosion. "Oh _merde._"

Cassandra, who was only a fraction of a second behind Leliana in regaining her feet, looked up towards the Temple of Andraste. Or at least what was left of the Temple. Where there was once a glittering five story temple there was only a pile of smoldering ruins. Cassandra felt her blood run cold as realization set in and she took off at a dead run. "Oh Maker…the Divine!"

"Cassandra!" She heard Leliana yell from behind her. "Cassandra wait!"

As Cassandra ran up the hill towards the ruins her eyes slowly went skywards. And as they rose her pace faltered before she felt herself stop almost involuntarily. "What in the Maker's name is that?" She asked to no one in particular her eyes unable to leave the sight before her.

High in the sky above them swirling like a green maelstrom was a sight unlike any Cassandra had ever seen before. Hearing the crunch of snow beside her Cassandra spared a brief glance at Leliana before turning her eyes back skywards. "Leliana?"

For perhaps the first time since she'd known her, Sister Nightingale was speechless. "I have no idea. Dear Maker…whats going on?"

* * *

**Hope y'all liked it! Please let me know what y'all thought please! Reviews of any kind are welcome! I got more than a little inspiration after playing DA3 for this one so hopefully chapters will be coming out fairly steadily.**

**Hawke and Surana will be making themselves known in this story and will be far more prevalent than they were in DA3. **

**Hope you all liked it! See y'all soon!  
**


	2. Awakening

**Just a quick note of thank you for those of you who've altered, add this story to your favorites, or reviewed. Thank you so much! I was actually kind of amazed at how many hits this got so quickly especially for a holiday weekend (for those of you in the states)**

**To my reviewers, thank you so much for your words! Thank you Apollo Wings, ethereal-23, edboy4926, zezia333. I hope that I'll be hearing more for y'all in the future chapters!**

**And again, please feel free to leave a review everyone! I love hearing what you think!**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Mahanon Lavellan, the First to Clan Lavelln, was not having what many considered to be a good week. Well that wasn't entirely true. He hadn't been having a good couple of weeks. It all started three weeks ago when his Clan's Keeper, Istimaethoriel, had sent him south to spy on a Conclave that was meant to try and bring an end to the war going on between the Templar's and the Mages. At first Mahanon was excited with the prospect of heading out on his own. It would be the first time he truly stuck out on his own since joining his clan. But now after two weeks of rough solo traveling, scavenging for anything edible, and nearly freezing to death while he tried to traverse the Frostback Mountains without being spotted, he was quickly changing his tune.

After nearly three weeks of hard traveling he managed to reach the conclave and snuck in unnoticed. The _shemlen _guarding the conclave were so pathetic. They never even thought of looking up. But…that was where his memories ended. He remembered vividly his trek from the Free Marshes and his infiltration of the conclave. But after that…there was nothing.

And now he found himself kneeling in a dark cold cell that'd been hastily constructed by the _shemlen_ specifically for him with four _shemlen_ keeping an eye on him. His grayish white hair, matted and filthy from weeks of traveling, had been pulled back painfully into a rudimentary tie. His pale green eyes kept carful watch on the four _shemlen_ guarding him with swords drawn. The chain linked cuffs holding his hands together bit painfully into his wrist as small droplets of blood dripped down his fingers. While the cell and the _shemlen_ he had no control over, the bracer that adorned his right wrist was his own fault. When he'd awoken and found himself surrounded by a room full of _shemlen_ with no explanation for how or why he was there; he reacted on pure instinct and lashed out with his magic striking three of the _shemlen_ in the chest with lightning bolts before feeling a sharp pain to the back of his head.

When he awoke again, curtesy of a cold bucket of water, he found that he'd been chained to the floor. Trying his luck again he tried lashing out at the nearest _shemlen_ with his magic and was met with a mind-numbing level of pain that left him gasping on the floor. Looking down at his chained wrist he snarled as he saw the source of his pain. A single small bracer, no wider than two finger widths, had been strapped painfully onto his wrist. The cool metal bracer was nearly flush with his skin and adorned with numerous runes. He snarled as he recognized the ancient ruins engraved on the surface of the small metal bracer. His Keeper had told him of these devices. A remnant of Chantry's Exalted march on the People. They didn't repress the ability to use magic. Rather they simply made it so that if the person wearing them tried to use magic they would experience a mind numbing level of pain designed to break their concentration.

After two more attempts to use his magic, and nearly fracturing his skull on the stone floor due to the convulsion from the pain, he decided to wait in silent meditation for his captors.

What was truly puzzling, even more so than how or why he ended up as a prisoner to the _shemlen_, was the strange pain he kept feeling in his left hand. More than once he caught saw glimpse of green wisp like smoke. But despite the magical represent bracer on his arm, he felt no pain. Well, relatively no pain. His hand did ache whenever the green wisps emerged, but it wasn't the same mind numbing pain that the bracer induced.

As thoughts of how he got where he was, the mark on his hand, and how he was going to escape raced through his mind he heard the door to his cell open. Two _shemlen_ women marched in and the guards surrounding him all took a step back. Apparently these two _shemlen_ were the ones in charge. One of the women looked as if she were cut from a solid piece of stone and carried an air of authority he was used to seeing from a Keeper. On her back she wore a sword and shield both of which were adorned with the mark of the _shemlen's_ Chanty. And the other, well if he were to describe her in any way possible it would be as a wolf stalking her prey. She moved with a grace and silence that could make even the most veteran of his clan's hunters seem like a stumbling pair of _da'len_.

The stone like woman marched around him eyeing him all the while like was an insect. It was a look he was used to see tossed his people's way by _shemlen_. "So tell me why I shouldn't just end your pathetic life right now."

Mahanon scoffed at the woman's tone. How typical of a _shemlen_. Kill everything you don't understand without question and try to shift through the ruins later. Mahanon didn't bother trying to answer her. She hadn't asked him a question in the first place.

"The conclave is destroyed." The woman continued making Mahanon blink. The conclave was…destroyed? How in Mythal's name was that possible. Surely she just meant the building was destroyed. "The Divine, the Grand Clerics, the mages, and the Templars; everyone who was to attend the conclave are now dead. Except for you. Care to explain that?"

Her implication wasn't exactly hidden. She thought he was responsible for whatever happened. And even while he knew that he had no part in whatever happened…he wasn't about to appear meek in front of a _shemlen_. "You _shemlen_ and flat ears were doing a fine job of killing yourselves well before I showed up. What need would I have to kill some pathetic people you seem to think important?"

The stone woman moved faster than Mahanon thought possible. One second he was sitting there and the next she had his left hand held firmly in her iron grip. As she twisted his arm and he reacted without thinking and tried to lash out at her with a mind blast attack. The pain was immediate and intense. Leaving him nearly limp, held up only by the woman's strong grip on his arm. "Then explain this!" The woman yelled either oblivious or ignoring the pain that both she and the bracer were inflicting on him.

As the pain of the bracer began to lessen it was replaced by the dull aching of whatever was in his hand. Green wisps of smoke like those rising from a dying ember slowly started rising from his unblemished skin. "I – I can't." He hissed trying to fight back the two sources of pain.

"You can't." The woman hissed. "Or you won't. Which one."

Glaring up at the stone face woman he tried to keep the pain out of his voice. He would not appear weak in front of these _shemlen_. "I can't _len'alas lath'din."_

Whether or not the woman understood his exact words she certainty did understand his tone. Her grip on his arm tightened even more, if that was possible. "You're lying!"

"Cassandra enough!" The woman with the hood shouted coming forward and forcibly separating the two of them. "We need him alive and unharmed. He's the only one who knows what happened up there."

Mahanon glared slightly as the hooded woman stood before him. If they needed his help, they probably could've done a better job at trying to win his cooperation. What happened next was…well Mahanon couldn't really explain it. The woman didn't move, she didn't make any threats, all that she did was soften her facial features and he…well he suddenly wanted to do whatever she wanted. "Please, we're just trying to figure out what happened up at the conclave. You must understand, we've lost everyone. The Divine, the mages, the Templar's, innocent villagers; hundreds if not thousands of people just lost their lives and we have no idea why or how. Please…help us."

"I – I don't really remember what happened." Mahanon admitted unable to hold the woman's cool blue gaze.

"Is there anything you can tell us?" The blue eyed woman asked kneeling down before him so she was eye level with him. "Maybe, why you were at the Conclave. Or perhaps your name, can you tell us that?"

Sighing Mahanon nodded. "My name is Mahanon Lavellan. First to Clan Lavellan. And while I don't know how such social circumstances work amongst your _shemlen_, but amongst the People it is often considered polite to introduce yourself before demanding someone's name."

Instead of being offended the blue eyed woman merely smiled. "I am Sister Leliana, and the woman behind you is Seeker Cassandra. Now that we have such pleasantries out of the way, perhaps you could tell us why you were at the Conclave so far away from your clan."

Again Mahanon felt that strange compulsion to answer the woman. He didn't know if she was using some sort of magic on him, but if she was then it was extremely subtle. "My Keeper…she sent me to keep an eye on the conclave."

"What business would the Dalish have with the Conclave?" The stone faced woman Cassandra hissed from behind him.

Looking over his shoulder at the stone woman he tried to meet her glare. "Your Templar's hunt and kill our people over a misguided sense of righteousness. Of course we were curious as to how this 'Conclave' of yours would play out."

"Can you tell us what happened once you were in the conclave?" The blue eyed woman asked drawing his attention again.

"I – I can't remember." Mahanon answered becoming increasingly frustrated. Not at the woman kneeling before him, but rather at the fact that there was such a blank spot in his memory. "I remember…darkness. I was running from…something and then…there was a woman that –"

"The woman, can you tell us about her?" The blue eyed woman asked quickly.

Mahanon furrowed his brow as he tried to remember something, anything, about his time in the darkness. "I – I don't really remember anything. I was running…there was a woman in white…she was reaching out for me and then…nothing."

The blue eyed woman, Leliana, furrowed her brow. "Nothing?"

"Nothing. The next thing I knew I was here, chained to the floor like a criminal and being tortured."

"No one has been tortured." The stone woman, Cassandra, said harshly.

Mahanon glared around behind him, lifting his arms as high as the chains would allow. "Then I guess this bracer is just simple decorative implement then."

The stone face woman just continued to silently glare at him, but at least the blue eyed on had the decency to at least look somewhat crestfallen. "We – cannot remove them, at least not yet." Leliana answered slowly.

"Typical _shemlen_ lies." Mahanon scoffed shaking his head. "So seeing as how I'm a little behind the current happenings, could someone bother to tell me what in Elgar'nan's name is going on?"

"It would be easier to show you." The stone faced woman sighed from behind him.

Next he knew the guards at his cell were fumbling with the chains that were holding him in place. Hearing the chains clatter loudly to the ground his first thought was to make a break for it, but he knew that he would have no chance with these damn magical repressors still attached to his wrists. He would have to play along until he could get them off and then make a break for it.

Apparently though these _shemlen_ weren't about to take any chances with him. As soon as his hands were free of the chains they immediately crossed his wrists in front of them and tied them together. To make it even worse, they left a trail of robe that the stone faced woman grabbed onto too so she could forcibly lead him. They were treating him the same as those magnificent horses they bound.

"Go to the forwards camp Leliana." The stone faced woman, Cassandra said her tone leaving no room for argument. "I will take our new friend."

Mahanon nearly laughed out loud. Their new 'friend'. Not likely.

Stretching his legs as best as possible Mahanon tried to get his blood flowing through his extremities as Cassandra forcibly pulled him out of his cell. As they walked he began to take careful note of everything around, or more specifically who he would have to fight when he made a break for it. '_Five guards, seven including stone face and blue eyes. Two seemingly unarmed but they are far too curious to be innocent bystanders.'_

As he took his first steps outside he was forced to cover his eyes from the light of the midday sun. '_By the grace of Mythal. How long did they have me down in that dark place?'_

Feeling the robe attached to his hands slacken, he looked sideways at his captor. Instead of looking at him though, Cassandra's eyes were turned skywards. Following her gaze he turned his eyes towards the sky and felt his heart skip of beat.

What he was looking at…it was impossible. High in the sky sickly green light, similar to the light that came from his hand, swirling in slow circles leaving a blackness at its center. Stones the size of aravels floated in the sky near the sickly light. But what truly made his stomach twist and turn was what he was feeling coming from that blackness in the center. Even a newly raised Second would be able to feel it. The twisting sickness that came only when one was in close proximity to a demon. And worse yet, the center of that blackness seemed to be directly over where the Conclave used to be. By the Creators…what had happened up there?

"We call it the 'Breach'." Cassandra explained apparently ignoring him for the moment, but still keeping a tight hold one the robe that connected the two of them. "A tear in the Veil leading directly to the Fade. It appeared immediately after the destruction of the Conclave. It is not the only such tear, but it is the largest that we have seen so far."

Mahanon stood transfixed, unable to take his eyes off the impossible sight sitting right before him. A tear in the Veil? Such a thing…it shouldn't have been possible. "What could've done such a thing?" He breathed not realizing he'd spoken aloud.

"We were hoping that you could tell us." Cassandra said turning to him. Now that they were in the light of day Mahanon was able to get a much better look at his captor. She truly wasn't too hard on the eyes, for a _shemlen_ anyway. The two scars adoring either of her cheeks only seem to add to her mystique. There were worse people to be capture by he guessed. "And now demons are crossing into our world unhindered."

"Wait." Mahanon said just barely catching the last of what she'd said. "Demons are crossing over from the Beyond?"

Cassandra's jaw tightened in annoyance, but she nodded all the same. "Yes."

The ground suddenly shook as the light from the Breach pulsed. All around _shemlen _cried out in alarm holding onto whatever was nearby. But for Mahanon, as soon as the pulse left the Breach he collapsed to the ground clutching at his left hand awkwardly as pain racked his body. Breathing shallowly he looked down in dread as sickly green light pulsed from his own hand in accordance with the pulse from the Breach. '_Mythal, what is happening to me?' _He prayed or rather begged.

"With each pulse the mark on your hand seems to grow." Cassandra said kneeling next to him but seemingly completely unfazed by the level of pain he was experiencing. "With each pulse the mark on your hand grows. Our experts theorize that soon the mark will spread far enough to the point that you will be pulled into the Fade and die. But…it may also be our key to stopping all of this."

Mahanon didn't hear half of what she'd said. He was too engrossed in the green light swirling from the palm of his hand. He…was going to die because of this? "And you still believe I did this too myself? There are less destructive and less painful ways to end one's life. And only a fool would dare attempt to tear the Veil asunder."

"Perhaps, but this might've been a mistake on your part." Cassandra said standing and giving his bindings a quick pull to get him to follow. "But help us seal the Breach, and you might just prove your innocence's."

Clamoring awkwardly to his feet Mahanon sighed in defeat. "It's not like I have much of a choice in the matter does it?" He asked rhetorically.

"Not really." Cassandra said her stone face never twitching.

Looking up at the massive Breach in the sky Mahanon closed his eyes. He may have been sent here on orders to spy on the Conclave and then return as soon as possible. But this, Breach. It concerned more than just the _shemlen_ and the flat ears. If it wasn't closed than the Dals would be in danger as well. "Fine, I'll help you. You have my word."

"Good." Cassandra said turning away from the Breach and giving his bindings a sharp pull as she led him through the main part of the camp.

As she marched him through the camp like a common criminal, Mahanon felt the eyes of everyone present on him. And none of them looked particularly pleased to see him up and about. Most looked as if they wanted to run him through right there and then while others looked as if they wanted to make him suffer as much a possible before ending him. "They have already decided your guilt." Cassandra explained as she led him through the few dozen _shemlen_. "They mourn deeply for the loss of the Most Holy. This Conclave was hers, a way to possibly end a war that has been tearing our lands apart. And whether or not you were involved somehow, you were the only one to survive the Conclaves destruction."

"So that makes me the one at fault." Mahanon scoffed. "Typical _shemlen_. Always rushing and never bothering to see as to whether or not you're on the right path. As long as your Chanty has someone to oppress or kill they seem perfectly content."

Cassandra moved so quickly that he nearly lost sight of her, despite the fact that she was walking right before him. One moment she was several paces before him and the next she pressed up against him holding a razor sharp dagger to his throat. "Be careful what you say elf! Or I'll –"

"You'll what?" Mahanon demanded matching her glare and lifting his chin slightly to give her better access to his neck. "You _shemlen_ already seem convinced that I'm guilty of some crime I have no knowledge of just because I was there. Whether by your hand, these people, or this Creator forsaken mark on my hand I'm already dead. So why don't you get on with it and save us both the trouble."

Their little display unfortunately hadn't gone unnoticed by those around him. As the two locked eyes with each other shouts of 'kill the knife-ear' or 'make him suffer' or 'for the Most Holy' rang out from the _shemlen_ of the camp.

As they held each other's eyes Mahanon was sure that he was about to die. But then Cassandra surprised him by taking a quick step away from him and slashing downwards. The bindings that'd been holding his wrists together slackened and fell from his hands before she returned the dagger to her sheath with more than little force. "Your guilt…your part in what happened has not yet been determined." She said, whether for the crowd or for herself he wasn't sure. "Help us seal the Breach as you promised. And while we cannot fully clear your name here and now, I promise that you will receive a fair trial in Val Royeux and that your actions in sealing the Breach will be taken into consideration."

"A fair trial? One of the Dals being paraded before a gathering of _shemlen _to stand trial for the death of _shemlen _and you seem to believe it would be fair? I was wrong Cassandra; you do have a good sense of humor. But unlike you, I am of the Dalish." Mahanon said rubbing his wrists to try and alleviate the pain from the robes all the while silently cursing that the bracer was still on his wrist. "And unlike you _shemlen _once we give our word, we keep it."

Cassandra didn't say anything further, merely motioning with her head towards the main gate of the camp. "Open the gate men; we're taking the prisoner to the Rift."

"Yes ma'am!"

"Where are we going now?" Mahanon asked following Cassandra out of the camp and up a small path.

Cassandra didn't turn around to address him, merely kept marching him up the path. "Our resident expert is currently studying a Rift, a smaller version of the breach. While it is our hope that you will be able to close the Breach with that mark on your hand, it is best if we test it first. To that end, we will see if you can close a Rift that is nearby."

Rubbing his hand where the 'mark' was located Mahanon followed the warrior woman up the path. While he didn't care about whether or not these _shemlen_ lived or died, he did care about his Clan and his People. And if it meant that he had to lower himself and work with the _shemlen, _then so be it. It didn't mean that he had to be excited about the prospect though.

As the path they were following up the mountain began to level off the Breach pulsed again. And again just like before Mahanon was hit with a wave of pain that emanated from his hand and spread life fire throughout every fiber of body. Dropping to his knees while clutching his hand Mahanon clenched his teeth together tightly trying to keep himself from screaming in pain. He would not show weakness in front of a _shemlen._ He wouldn't.

"The pain is getting worse, isn't it?"

As the pain began to subside he managed to look up enough to see Cassandra. The stone faced woman was kneeling down next to him. The soft look on her face stood in such stark contrast to the look of condemnation she wore before that for a moment he wasn't sure he was even looking at the same woman. But just as quick as the soft look came, it was instantly replaced with her normal 'stone' look.

"It's…bearable." He grunted out rising awkwardly to his feet and shaking his hand trying to shake out the last remnants of pain still in his hand. "What are those…pulses?"

Standing Cassandra shook her head. "We are, uncertain. What we do know is that they are created by the Breach. And with each pulse a new wave of demons are brought into our world. Now come, we have wasted enough time. We must get to the Rift and quickly."

Having no choice but to follow her, Mahanon walked a pace behind the woman as the two came upon a stone bridge. It was when they were halfway across the bridge that Mahanon's day went from terrible to something far worse. Another pulse, just as powerful as the last two, came from the Breach forcing him to his knees in pain. But unlike the last two times where all he had to deal with was the pain, this time the pulse was accompanied by more than just pain. Green lights shot forth from the Breach like well-aimed arrows. One of those lights just happened to strike the bridge they were standing on, destroying it completely and sending both Mahanon and Cassandra spiraling down onto the frozen river beneath them.

Shaking his head Mahanon tried in vain to clear the combination of pain and disorientation from the fall he didn't even notice as something struck the frozen lake right next to him. "Get behind me now!" He heard Cassandra shout as the warrior woman drew her sword and shield while marching past him.

Turning his head in the direction she was heading, he felt his blood go colder than the ice he was currently laying on. Less than ten feet from them was a creature straight from a nightmare. The creature was hunched over and clothed only in tattered rags that did little to nothing to hide its grotesque appearance. Uneven eyes sat on either side of a wickedly curved nose which sat just above a twisted mouth full of razor sharp fangs. A demon shade. One of the lowest levels of demons but still more than a match for even the best of warriors.

"Oh, shit." Mahanon moaned rolling over and trying to regain his feet as Cassandra slashed at the demon shade with her sword and shield.

He was barely able to get to his knees when the ice before him began to blacken. As the blackness spread it started swirling and rising as if it had a mind of its own. Which wasn't far from the truth as a second demon shade began to materialize from the depths of the blackness.

"Oh shit!" Mahanon yelled scrambling backwards as the demon began to solidify.

Holding his hand out he readied his magic to blast the creature, and was met with another mind-numbing wave of pain. The represent bracer! He'd completely forgotten that'd been wearing it!

Looking around widely he looked for something, anything that could get the Creator forsaken thing off his wrist. His only salvation came in the form of a large stone that'd once been part of the bridge. Picking up the stone in his left hand he laid his right against the surface of another stone. Gritting his teeth and muttering a short prayer to Elgar'nan for strength he brought the rock down once. Twice. And on the third strike he let out a loud cry of agony as he felt his thumb dislocate and the bones in his hand shatter.

Throwing the stone away he then used his left hand to spread the blood that was rapidly falling from his right over and under the bracer. Gritting his teeth he grabbed hold of the torture device and began moving it down. Letting out one last cry of pain he slide the blood soaked bracer over his wrist and broken hand before throwing the forsaken thing as far away from himself as he could.

Hearing growling coming from above him he reacted without thought. Holding his ruined right hand above him he summoned his magic into the palm of his hand and lashed out with a bolt of lightning that struck the demon square in the chest hurling it away from him.

Taking shallow breaths he searched frantically for a weapon of any sort. When his eyes fell upon a seemingly discarded short sword, that more than likely belonged to one of the poor souls that'd been on the bridge when the demon struck it, he scrambled for the weapon and held it awkwardly in his left hand. Using his ruined right, he ran his fingertips down the length of the steel muttering a long incantation under his breath. As his fingers moved down its length small intricate ruins began appearing on its surface. By the time his fingers were at the tip the sword was alight with ruins. Once his fingers left the blade it erupted in flames. While it wasn't his rune enchanted and hand carved staff it would do for the moment.

Turning back to face the now recovered demon he held the flaming sword in his left hand. "Come at me demon." He hissed waiting for the creature to make its move.

The demon moved like a snake, lowering its hood almost to the ground as it slithered its way towards him. Holding his position he waited for the demon to lunge. The instant the creature left the ground, Mahanon struck. Ducking and rolling off to the side he swiped at the demon with his ruined right hand, sending a wave of lightning into the creatures flank and flipping it over.

Not wanting to give the demon a chance to recover Mahanon rushed over to the demon and buried his flaming sword to the hilt in its forehead.

Placing his boot against the smoking head of the demon he roughly yanked his blade free before turning to help Cassandra. But he needn't have bothered as the warrior woman was proving him wrong by being more than a match for the low class demon. Holding her shield above her head she blocked the claws of the demon that'd been descending upon her before thrusting upwards with her sword, spearing the demon through its gaping maw.

"Well done." Mahanon comment approaching Cassandra slowly all the while keeping his eyes on the demon as it lashed about widely try in vain to prevent its death. But the creature was already dead; it just hadn't stopped moving yet. "You're better than I –"

His words cut off as Cassandra's sword, still covered in the black ichor of demon blood, came to a sudden stop right beneath his chin. "Drop your weapon. Now."

Had they not had their earlier confrontation Mahanon would've more than likely been pissing in his boots. But as they had already been through this, he knew that her threat was mildly unfounded. She needed him. A lot more than he needed her. "It's raining demons out here _shemlen_. Do you honestly expect to protect the both of us by yourself? And besides," he paused to raise his ruined right hand, showing that the magical represent was now gone. "I don't need a sword to be dangerous. And had I wanted you dead, I would've struck while you were busy with demon."

When Cassandra made no move to lower her weapon Mahanon sighed and continued. "We both don't like this arrangement Cassandra, but the truth of the moment is that we need each other. Now you're going to have to try and trust me, just like I'm trying to trust you."

The stone woman looked conflicted for a moment before dropping her sword. "Fine, you're right. It would be better for the both of us if you remained ready to fight." As her eyes went down to his bloodied hand she reached for a small vial attached to her belt. "Here. I have a poultice that can-"

"No need." Mahanon said covering his right hand with his left.

Closing his eyes and focusing his magic he began the delicate process of sending waves of magical healing into his hand. Healing was always a tricky ability to learn. Too much power or too little could be detrimental to the one being healed. Also how long the healing spell was maintained for played a factor into the overall effectiveness. It was a delicate balance of skill and patience. One that while Mahanon was decent at, he was certainly no expert.

Feeling that all the pain had left his hand, he uncovered his right to reveal it as perfectly normal. "There," he said giving his hand a shake for emphasis. "Good as new. You have any injuries that need taken care of?"

Cassandra shook her head. "No. Let us press on; this delay may prove to be costly as the others are currently trying to hold back the bulk of the demons emerging from the Rift. Let's move."

Watching as Cassandra turn and marched away, Mahanon couldn't help but shake his head as he moved to follow. _'Typical shemlen. Always in a hurry. Such foolishness.' _He thought reigniting the ruins on his blade and keeping a weather eye on the snowy hills around them for any more demons. _'Although whose more foolish? The fool. Or the fool who follows the other into a horde of demons? Creator's help me…I'm such a fool.'_


	3. Sealing the Rifts

**Three chapters in less than a week. I feel like I'm on a roll here! I just hope that y'all are enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it!**

**A big thank you to edboy4926 and Apollo Wings for leaving a review on the last chapter. An another big thank you for those of you who added this one to your favorites or alerted to it**

**Please please please leave a review! I love hearing what y'all think! Be it good, or advise, or suggestions so please feel free to leave a review! Reviews are certainly a good way to get me motivated to get the next chapter out quickly.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Staying at least a full two paces behind Cassandra, Mahanon dutifully followed the _shemlen_ up the mountain path. The cold mountain wind cut through the tattered remains of cloak chilling him to the bone. For not the first time since he left his Clan he wished that he'd brought more than just two sets of traveling cloths. Worse yet, their trek up the mountain path had led them right into battle against two more groups of demons. By the time Cassandra had finally announced that they were drawing close to the Rift the two of them were covered in platters of demonic ichor and frozen water.

As they crested yet another rise in the path Mahanon felt his hand immediately begin to ache. But unlike before where the pain in his hand was nearly unbearable, this was nothing more than a dull ache. "We're nearly there." Cassandra said as they started walking by what might've once been a grand tower.

Mahanon's ear's twitched as he caught the sound of steel ringing and men shouting. "There's fighting up ahead!" He shouted pushing past Cassandra and following his ears.

He had no love for the _shemlen_, but not even they deserved to be left to the devices of the demons.

Rounding the edge of the ruins Mahanon's steps faltered slightly. Before him was…well he wasn't sure how to describe it. A crystal like object hung suspended in midair amongst a throng of battling men and demons. He could almost taste the Fade spilling out from the crystal. This must be the tear in the Fade, this Rift, which Cassandra had been talking about.

"Don't just stand there!" Cassandra shouted running past him while drawing her sword. "We need to help them!"

The stone woman's shout was enough to shake him out of the stupor that'd been induced by seeing the tear in the Veil and he was less than half a step behind Cassandra in drawing his sword and leaping into the fray.

Shade demons and a demon that struck Mahanon as a horribly deformed and shrunken sylvan slithered about circling the tear in the Veil. Intermingled with them were a handful of _shemlen_ armored in a similar fashion to Cassandra trying their best, and failing, to hold back to stream of demons that were clawing their way out of tear.

Charging up to the first shade demon he brought his enchanted flaming sword up ready to cleave it in two, only to have his sword hit nothing but air as the demon's head snapped back due to the sudden appearance of a crossbow bolt taking it right between its eyes. "Sorry about that! But Bianca gets a little excited at times like these!"

Not bothering to see who had taken his kill, Mahanon moved onto the next nearest demon, one of the sylvan demons. Ducking underneath a wide swing from razor sharp claws, Mahanon slashed upwards leaving a deep inflamed gouge in the creatures arm. Before the demon could recover he reversed his slash taking the creature across its chest before finishing it off with a quick lunge right into the demon's heart. Or at least where he thought the creature's heart was.

Letting go of his sword he spun around the dead demon, readying his magic in between his hands all the while. Righting himself he lashed out with his magic at the next nearest demon, a shade like creature that Cassandra was holding at bay with her shield. Lashing out with his lightning he struck the demon right in its hooded head, sending it head over heels through the air and crashing into the side of the mountain with bone crushing force.

As he turned to find his next target he felt a hand roughly grab his left. Turning he was ready to attack whoever dared grab him, but was stopped as his hand was thrust towards the crystal like tear. The green light in his hand sprung to life as if recognizing the tear in the veil. Pain, not nearly as bad as earlier but still on the same level as his vallaslin ceremony, made his hand tremble.

Just as the light grew to the point of being painful to look at, it shot forth from his hand and struck the tear. For a moment he and the tear were joined by green lightning and in that moment he felt, truly felt the Fade. It was…sickening. A vile disgusting twisting evil that made his guts want to curl into knots. But at the same time…he could feel peace, tranquility. A heart lifting hope that forced him stand up while simultaneously strengthening his resolve. Such contradictory feelings…it was so strange. But at the same time, it confirmed everything he'd ever thought or been told about the Fade. It was not a land of evil. It was a land of both good and evil in constant flux.

Pushing himself harder he felt a pulse of magic leave his left hand, travel through the connective lightning, and slam into the tear in the veil.

The effect was immediate. Any remaining demons that'd come through this tear suddenly screamed in agony and fell still, giving the few remaining _shemlen_ the time they needed to run them through. The Rift flashed brightly once in defiance before going dim and then disappearing entirely.

Still feeling the weight of someone's hand against his wrist he roughly twisted his arm breaking the grip of whoever was holding onto his arm. The tongue lashing he had ready for the _shemlen _that dared manhandle him died on his lips as he got a good look at the man. It was no human, but an elf. An elf who lacked a vallaslin. So a Chantry cowed elf then. But at least an elf.

"So I was right." The elf said rubbing his jaw and glancing down at Mahanon's left hand before turning to face Cassandra. "The mark can close the Rifts. I believe with the appropriate amount of power, it will be able to close the Breach as well. I will need to guide him in the correct channeling techniques, but I believe that this will end soon now."

Mahanon felt himself growling at being talked about like he wasn't even there. Obviously this man – elf – was the expert that Cassandra had mentioned earlier. "I do not need nor want your help Chantry elf."

The elf snapped towards Mahanon as if he'd been slapped. The two mages eyes locked the briefest of moments before the other mage broke the connection and stared at his face. No doubt the Chantry elf was looking at his vallaslin. "You are one of the people." The other mage noted, surprising Mahanon. None but those amongst the Dals referred to their people as such. Was this elf one of the People as well? If so…then where was his mark. "I am no Chantry elf; I am in fact an apostate who has volunteered my services to help stop the Breach."

Slight movements in the corner of Mahanon's peripheral vision made both elves turn as one and raise their hands and began pooling their magic into the palms of their hands. One of the demon's wasn't quite dead and had apparently decided to launch one last attack while their back was turned. No matter how quick the two were though, there was one who was faster than the both of them. Before the demon could even get with two arm's length of the mages it was thrown backwards as a well-aimed crossbow bolt appeared in-between the creature's blackened eyes.

"Huh, seems like it's a good thing I decided to stick around eh?"

Three sets of eyes turned to watch as a dwarf sporting the oddest crossbow Mahanon had ever seen marched up to them. "Sorry about stealing two of your kills elfie, but ol'Bianca here, she gets more than a little restless with demons scurrying about."

Sharing a quick look towards the other elf and Cassandra, Mahanon swallowed before turning back towards the dwarf. "Well um, that's okay. And eh, nice crossbow."

The dwarf just chuckled. "Ah, that she is. Bianca and I have been through the Fade and back, nearly literally. AH, but where are my manners, Varric Tethras, at your service. Story teller extraordinaire, scholar, explorer, and occasional unwelcome tagalong."

"You're not coming." Cassandra growled stepping up between the two elvhen mages. "I have more than enough trouble trying to keep Solas and this one out of trouble. I don't need the addition of you to my problems."

So the other elf's name was Solas. A traditional Dalish name, not one of the diluted names given to the Chantry cowed flat ears. Maybe his current company wasn't so bad after all. "Hahaha, you don't get it do you Seeker? You'll need all the help you can get to undo Blondies mess. And I'm here ready and willing, despite the fact that it's raining demons out here."

While Mahanon had no idea who this Varric was referring too, the truth of the matter was he was a better shot than most of his clan. And he was not about to turn down help when it was freely offered. "It's never a bad idea to have another bow along with us." He cut in before Cassandra could say anything further on the subject. "Especially as our new friend pointed out, 'it's raining demons out here'."

Cassandra glared at Mahanon and he just glared right back. "This argument is pointless Seeker." The other elf, Solas, added. "In order to seal the Breach we are going to have to get this _da'len_ close. Which means fighting demons. Any and all help will be needed."

Mahanon glared angrily at the elf. _Da'len_? This Solas looked no older than he. "Fine." Cassandra murmured angrily. "But put one foot out of line dwarf and I will throw you right back into the hole I pulled you out of."

"Back to the Hangman? Can't go wrong with that one. You'd be doing me a favor Seeker!" The dwarf, Varric, shouted out at her retreating form before turning back to him. "Women eh? Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. So what's your name my friend?"

Mahanon couldn't help but like the dwarf. While the _shemlen_ had rightfully earned the ire of the Dalish, the _durgen'len_ had suffered just as much under the rule of the _shemlen_. "I am Mahanon Lavellan, First of Clan Lavellan."

Varric, and Solas, seemed mildy impressed by his title. "A First eh? Known a couple myself. Maybe when this is all over I'll introduce you two."

"I am Solas," the elf said introducing himself for the first time. "But I'm sure you heard that. It is hard not to hear the Seeker's voice when she is aggravated. I am glad to see that you are up and around finally after three days."

Mahanon blinked. He'd been asleep for three days? That was new. "What he means to say is that he's glad he no longer has to watch over you night and day making sure you're still alive." Varric added shouldering his strange crossbow.

Turning towards Solas he gave the elf a curious look. "You – you've been looking after me?"

Solas merely nodded. "Yes. When they first brought you in you were wounded and it was feared you wouldn't survive the night. I healed your wounds and took the time to try and figure out the mystery of the strange mark on your hand."

Holding up his left hand he felt a wave of gratitude wash through him towards Solas. But as he spied the few fading scars on the back of his right hand, his gratitude quickly shifted to anger. "You were there." He hissed glaring at the other elf. "You let them torture me."

The elf didn't even look the slightest bit ashamed at having let the _shemlen_ torture one of his own. "In their defense, you did lash out with your magic unprovoked. You nearly killed one of the guards. It took me two hours to heal the burns to hi-"

"I don't care about these pathetic _shemlen_." He hissed stepping up to the other elf. "They can wallow in halla shit for all I care. I woke up chained and bound surrounded by _shemlen_ who looked ready to kill me. How was I supposed to react?"

One of the elf's eyebrows' rose. "And yet here you are. Helping these same _shemlen_ that you say you don't care about."

"I'm only helping them because if this tear in the Veil isn't closed our people will suffer as well." Mahanon answered quickly taking a step away from Solas. "Once the tear is sealed I will go back to our people. And you, you will continue to be nothing more than their pet, _elvhen'alas_."

Mahanon didn't see Solas move, but he certainty did feel his magic. The wave of magic hit him so hard and fast that even if he had managed to get a barrier in place, it would've been blown aside. After sailing through the air, slamming into the stone ruins, and falling face first into the ground below he was ready to teach this flat ear a lesson. But again before he could move he felt an invisible hand slam down onto his back and pin him to the ground. "Listen well _da'len_. You may be the younger, but you are not the wiser." Solas said, his voice still the same constant calm as it had been throughout their entire confrontation. "You name the humans _shemlen_, but so far that name is a far better descriptor for yourself. You need to stop and think. This is not a time for petty rivalry or past grievances. All people of Thedas; be they elves, humans, dwarves or kossith must learn to put aside their differences and work together or the Fade shall swallow all of the land in darkness. Set aside your petty anger _da'len_. The past cannot be changed, no matter how much we wish it. Learn from the past, but always keep your eyes on the horizon."

Hearing the crunching of snow as Solas walked past him, Mahanon let out a breath of relief as the magic that'd been holding him in place disappeared completely. But even with the magic gone he didn't get up. He felt angered, embarrassed, and humiliated all at once. He hadn't been taken to task like that since he first began his apprenticeship under his Keeper.

Hearing a pair of heavy footfall's next to his head, he pushed himself up just enough to see who'd witness his humiliation. Thankfully, Varric was not staring down at him with anger or pity. "Well, one of these days I'm going to meet two of you elves who can at least act somewhat civilly towards one another." Varric said helping Mahanon to his feet.

"I'm sorry." Mahanon said brushing the dirt and snow off his front. "You are not seeing me at my best."

Varric simply shrugged his apology off. "The worlds gone to shit kid. I don't think anyone is at their 'best' at the moment. And besides, I'm not the one who you need to be apologizing too in the first place."

Turning in the direction he heard Solas walk off towards he spotted the elf half way down a narrow path with Cassandra waiting at the bend. "You're right." Mahanon breathed.

"Hey, buck up kid." Varric teased giving him a playful slap. "We got plenty of demons to kill. So let's get a move on."

"My name is Mahanon." He said marching beside the dwarf towards Solas and Cassandra. "Not kid."

Varric fixed him with a crocked half grin. "And once you stop acting like one, I'll stop calling you it."

* * *

After three more demonic encounters, including one more Rift sealing, the group of four finally reached the camp Cassandra had been leading them towards. Although to call it a camp was an understatement in Mahanon's opinion. _Shemlen_ in dirty and bloodied armor rushed around trying to offer any aid possible to those who were lying on the cold stone bridge moaning in agony. Following silently behind Cassandra, Mahanon couldn't help but look at one poor soul who was now missing one of his legs from the knee down and had a crude bloodied bandage wrapped around his head to cover his eye.

The sight was…unnerving. Even for one such as Mahanon who had vowed that if he ever came across a _shemlen _dying of thirst he would empty his water skin onto the ground before him.

"What is he doing here?!"

Mahanon had been so enthralled by the level of suffering be brought upon these _shemlen_ that he hadn't even noticed that Cassandra had stopped moving until he nearly ran into the back of her. Looking around he saw that all eyes were on him, including the cool blue eyes of Leliana and another _shemlen_ clothed in the red and white robes of the Chantry and was glaring at him with near frothing rage.

Instead of giving the angry _shemlen_ the honor of acknowledgement he instead turned his attention to Leliana. Somehow the woman had managed to traverse the same path as them, but where his cloths were torn, covered in blood and demonic spume; she was still in the same immaculate shape she'd been when she left them. "Did you manage to avoid the demons?" He asked nodding towards her clean attire.

Instead of being offended by his words, the blue eyed _shemlen_ merely smirked and spread her arms. "I took down three demons on my way here. I'm merely that much better than you, no?"

Mahanon felt himself nearly smile. Nearly. He wouldn't give a _shemlen_ the benefit of knowing he found her amusing, even if it was the truth.

"I demand to know why the prisoner is outside of his cage where he belongs! And where are his bindings? This heathen should be chained and bound in a carriage and on his way to Val Royeux right now to face execution for the murder of the Divine!"

This time Mahanaon did acknowledge the annoying _shemlen_. Embracing his magic he took a threatening step towards the annoying little man. He'd learned long ago that embracing his magic in such a way made his eyes come alight and gave his skin a slight glow. It wasn't dangerous, or even useful in a fight. But it did its job to frighten the _da'len_ or _shemlen_ who thought themselves his better.

And it appeared to work just as well on the members of the Chantry as the pompous man took a few steps backwards in freight. He was a little disappointed when none of his other temporary companions moved in fear, but at least he made the little priest piss himself.

"Listen here little _shemlen_, cause I will not lower myself to repeat this to you." Another side effect of holding onto his magic was that it altered his voice slightly. Not by much, but again it was more than another to make the Chantry fool take another step back. "I did not kill your precious Divine. And I have no idea who did. And if my word isn't enough for you, then I don't care. Because I do not recognize the supposed authority of the Chantry."

As the power began fading from his voice and eyes the _shemlen_ priest apparently regained his spine. However worthless it might be. "You dare! I am-"

"Peace, Chancellor." Leliana said stepping in-between the two of them. "These are trying times for all of us. And we must keep our heads if we are too see the end of these dark times, no?"

"The prisoner is here under my guard Chancellor." Cassandra added stepping up beside him. "He is the key to closing the Breach. We have already proven as such by closing the two Rfits that littered the path between this camp and Haven. Leliana, how is the path leading up to the Breach?"

"Not good." Leliana answered motioning towards the mountain top. "Commander Cullen reports at least two more active Rifts near the summit. But with Mahanon's help we should be able to-"

"He won't be doing anything!" The pompous _shemlen _shouted waving his arms about widely. "He is to be taken to Val Royeux immediately! As High Chancellor I hereby demand it!"

"Who invited this pompous windbag in the first place? Shouldn't you be back down the mountain counting pieces of paper or whatever it is you _shemlen_ priest do?" Mahanon asked looking around at the other people on the bridge.

While Mahanon didn't necessarily think his offhand comment was too terribly funny, the interesting shade of red that it made the pompous windbags face turn certainly was. "Why you…heathen! I am High Chancellor Roderick! And I will not be talked down to by a barbarian!"

"You are nothing but a glorified bureaucrat!" Cassandra yelled stepping between the two of them before Mahanon had the chance to turn the Chantry priest into a puddle of blood and guts. "And you do not give me orders! Our appointment as the Right and Left Hand comes directly from Most Holy herself!"

"You are nothing more than a thug." The man, Roderick countered making Cassandra turn red. "But I thought that you were a thug that served the Chantry. This man is more than likely responsible for the death of the Divine. He must be brought before the other Grand Clerics to face judgment."

"And in the process the Breach will continue to grow, sending out more Rifts and allowing more demons to enter our world until everything is consumed." Solas added stepping forward. "Right now he is the only one who can seal the Rifts. We can't waste time by allowing him to be carted off."

Roderick bit his lip for a second before throwing his hands up in the air. "Even if you he can seal the Rifts, it is impossible to reach the base of the Breach. Demons are running rampant, cutting down everyone in their path. You've seen their devastation yourselves! We are…overrun. Our only hope is to fall back and come back later with the armies of the Chantry."

Cassandra though wouldn't back down. "And in the meantime more and more demons will come through. We have a chance to possibly end this Roderick. And we are not going to let it go to waste just so you can play politics."

Mahanon could see the vein's running down his face he was so mad. It was actually pretty funny."Did you not hear me Cassandra? The pass is overrun and we don't have the man power to retake it! Even with this…criminal's help."

"There is another path we can take." Leliana added in quickly as Cassandra and the Chantry fool continued to glare at one another.

Mahanon, grateful for the chance to end the pointless clucking of the _shemlen_, sighed in relief. "What is it?"

Leliana motioned up towards the side of the mountain. "There is a path that leads through an old abandoned mine. A small group of us could take it and flank the demons while the bulk of our army keeps their attention."

Mahanon looked around at the blank faces of those around him. "What are we still sitting here for? If it gets us to where we need to go, then let's get a move on."

Not bothering to see if anyone was following him, Mahanon roughly shouldered his way past the Chantry fool and headed for the opposite end of the camp. "Wait Mahanon."

Sighing at hearing Solas's voice, Mahanon turned back around to see what the elder elf wanted, and had to keep himself physically restrained otherwise he might've killed every last _shemlen_ on the bridge. Clutched between Solas's hands was his staff. _His_ staff. Not one of those pathetic Chantry made pieces of halla dung, but the staff that he himself had crafted from a piece of iron bark under the watchful eye of his clan's master craftsman and Keeper.

Walking towards Solas with slow steps he reached out and carefully took the staff from the elf as if he were talking ahold of a new born babe. The staff was exactly the way he remembered it. The delicate ruins carved into the iron wood, the twisting of the branches one end, and finally the iron bark blade that he fastened to the opposite side. So the _shemlen_ hadn't destroyed it. He was more than slightly afraid that they would've upon waking and finding himself in their care.

"Thank you." He said twirling the staff between his fingers, rejoicing at having his faithful companion back at his side.

"It is not me you should be thanking." Solas explained shaking his head. "It was Sister Leliana who insisted on its protection in case you decided to aid us."

Turning slowly he eyed the Chantry sister. He was about to ask why, but when his eyes fell on her bow the words died on his lips. Her bow was a beautifully carved recurve long bow. But it was the wood it'd been made of and the intricate designs running its length that caught his attention more than anything. Iron bark and elvhen patterns. That was a bow that only a Master Dalish craftsman could create. And the dalish did not simply sell those types of weapons to _shemlen_.

"I was gifted this bow by a clan of dalish elves during my travels with the Hero of Ferelden, Alim Surana." Leliana explained, although he couldn't help but notice as her right hand quickly touched her left as she said the heroes name. "We aided them by helping cure a terrible disease. Their master craftsman gifted me this bow as thanks."

Mahanon felt his opinion of the _shemlen_ involuntarily shift. At least where the blue eyed woman was concerned. No dalish craftsman would gift such a bow upon someone unless they thought them worthy of respect.

"Not that this isn't fun and all," Varric added nodding towards the sky. "But that Breach isn't getting any smaller."

"Right." Cassandra announced stepping forward, but not before casting a withered look towards the Chantry fool. "Let's move out. Leliana, head back to the main camp and bring whoever can still lift a sword here and aid Commander Cullen in the valley. I will take our guest through the mine path and-"

"Send a runner for reinforcements Cassandra." Leliana said quickly. "You'll need me to guide you through the mines."

Cassandra looked as if she was about to press the matter, but quickly decided against it. "You're right Leliana."

"Of course I am." The blue eyed sister added playfully. "Now come, let us go. We have a lot of ground to cover and every moment counts."

Their trek through the mines was, to say in a word, uneventful when compared to what the small group had encountered on their way to the forward camp. With Leliana acting as their guide they navigated the darkened tunnels with no problems and emerge back into day light at a very familiar location. They were right at the base of the Conclave at roughly the same location that Mahanon had used to sneak into the temple.

And as soon as they stepped out into the light Mahanon's sensitive ears picked up the distinct sound of metal striking against metal. Whirling his staff into his fingers Mahanon took off at a dead run towards the sound. At the moment he didn't care that he was more than likely about to aid _shemlen_, he merely wanted to put an end to these demons.

His hearing proved true as Mahanon rounded another bend and came upon a small band of soldier's that were trying, and failing, to hold back a wave of demons. Although they might've been succeeding had it not been for the glowing green Rift that was situated almost directly above the _shemlen's _heads.

Flooding his staff with his magic Mahanon slammed the bladed end into the ground sending a shockwave of lightning through the ground and catching all of the demons unaware.

With his lightning still coursing through them, the demons were powerless to help as the _shemlen_ that'd been battling them, and Mahanon's own ragtag group fell upon them with swords, arrows, and staffs. Seeing that the demons were well in hand, Mahanon turned his attention to the Rift that was hanging above him, taunting him.

Feeling a slight twinge in his left hand, he looked down and saw that his hand was once again glowing and had little wisps of green smoke drifting from his palm. Well, it worked before, no reason why it wouldn't work again.

Trying to remember exactly how it felt the last time when Solas forced his hand towards the Rift, Mahanon did his best to recreate what happened. And was rewarded as once again green lightning shot forth from his hand and impacted the Rift. And just like last time it felt as if the Rift was pulling all of his magic, all of his life force, our of his body through the mark on his hand. Just before his strength left him the Rift pulsed, and then imploded and was no more.

Shoving the blade of his staff hard into the frozen ground, Mahanon leaned against his oldest friend trying hard to regain his bearings without appearing weak in front of the _shemlen_.

"Oh, thank the Maker you arrived! If you hadn't come…Maker I don't even want to think about it."

Even turning his head a fraction took more than a little out of him. Creator's, if sealing just one of these small Rifts could drain him so…than when he tried to seal the Breach. Mythal guide him, he didn't think he would survive.

"Sir, are you alright?"

Finally regaining enough of his composure he eyed the woman _shemlen _that was standing next to him. Her arms were raised as if she were about to help him upright, but she froze the second her eyes landed on his face. '_Typical shemlen. See a pair of pointed ears and vallaslin markings and immediately label the barer a heathen.'_

"I'm fine." He grunted, straightening and staring straight into the woman's frightened eyes. "What are you doing up here? Shouldn't you be with the rest of the _shemlen_ down the hill?"

The woman swallowed hard, and unable to hold his gaze she started looking around widely. "Lady Cassandra! Lady Leliana! Why are you – oh, excuse me. I mean it's good to see you both. Thank the Maker you both arrived when you did."

Mahanon would've snarled if he wasn't used to such treatment. He'd just saved their pathetic lives and not even the slightest bit of gratitude.

"Mahanon here insisted we come through the mine path." Cassandra explained to the scout, but Mahanon was beyond caring and moved over towards the spiraling ruins that were once a spiraling temple.

Leaving his so called 'guards' behind him he made his way over towards where he roughly believed the entrance to the temple had been. And as he came upon a flat area filled with rubble his feet refused to move any further. Littered amongst the toppled and smoldering ruins were what looked like small statues. Only they weren't statues. At least they hadn't been.

Dozens of people, it was impossible to tell whether elf or human, were frozen in time by stone prisons. Most were still smoldering. Standing there staring out at devastation and brutality of what had happened Mahanon tired, he truly tried, to find something, anything, in his memory that could explain this.

Mahanon hadn't even noticed that he'd been moving forward, one foot in front of the other, until he was kneeling before one of the smoldering statues. While it may have been impossible to tell whether or not this poor soul was human or elf, Mahanon's keen elf eyes could pick out the subtle curves of the hips and chest that could only mean one thing. The woman was kneeling on the ground, one arm near her middle and the other held outwards as if she were trying in vain to stop whatever magic had done this too her. But it was what was within her arm around her middle that demanded his attention. A small form, barely half the size of the woman, was clinging to her chest. Creators have mercy. It was a child. A simple child. Creators mercy.

Reaching out his hand he gently ran his fingers down what would've been the hair of the child. "_Hamin da'len, hamin mamae._ May Falon'Din guide you to your god's side. May you know the peace that was stolen from you in this life. _Ir abelas."_

"She died defending her child." Mahanon didn't need to look behind him to know that it was Leliana who was now standing next to him. "If we do not put an end to this now, this will continue."

"I know." Mahanon said giving the entombed child one last caress before standing and facing the Sister. Leliana's eyes were moist as she stared down past him at the mother and child. And although he wouldn't admit it, Mahanon felt his own eyes starting to grow moist as well.

This insanity needed to be stopped. Even if it meant that he was saving _shemlen_. Even if it meant he would more than likely die. He needed to stop this madness before it could spread to the elvhen. Hearing the shifting of rumble he looked over his shoulder. Cassandra and the rest of the ragtag group had caught up to him, and they weren't alone. Accompanying them were at least another dozen or so _shemlen_ soldiers. Probably the remnants of the group that were attacking the horde head on.

"Sister Leliana, I'm glad to see that you were able to guide them through the passage safely." A blond haired _shemlen_ said stepping forward.

"Thank our friend here." Leliana said motioning towards him. "If not for his help, the Rifts would still be open."

The blond haired man turned to him and, surprising enough, gave Mahanon a stiff salute. "You have my thanks stranger. I'm glad to see that Cassandra and Leliana's trust in you was not miss placed."

"Yes, well," Mahanon start shifting his weight, unused to receiving praise, even backhanded praise, from a human soldier no less. "Let's just get this done."

The blond human nodded and motioned for them to head into the ruined temple, although to call it a ruin was more than little generous seeing as how the only thing still standing were the few odd walls. But once inside the walls Mahanon felt his will power faltering. There was nothing. Just a giant crater in the ground. And in the center of the crater standing like a small spire was a single piece of red crystal. Even from their current distance Mahanon could feel the pull, the temptation, of lyrium coming from the red crystal spire. But that couldn't be right. Lyrium wasn't red.

"That's red lyrium." Varric hissed stating the obvious.

"Yes, that's what we assumed as well." Cassandra answered while barking out orders to her soldiers.

"But what's it doing here Seeker?" Varric pressed, gesturing around the sides of the crater were dozens of other red lyrium deposits were present.

Choosing to stay silent, Mahanon started to silently chanty. '_O Falon'Din, Lethanavir. Friend of the dead guide my feet, calm my soul, lead me to my rest.'_

"The Rift is closed, albeit temporarily." He heard Solas say.

Shaking his head his heart started beating widely as he saw where they were. He had been so distracted reciting his prayer over and over that he hadn't even taken note of their decent into the crater. And now he stood before the red lyrium spire and a single Rift far larger than the previous two he had already closed. So this was it. This was the Rift that was tied to the Breach. This was where he was going to die.

"If it's closed already wouldn't it be for the best to just leave it be for the time being?" The blond human asked while moving his soldiers around in preparation for what was about to happen.

Shaking his head Solas turned to address them all. "No. The Rift are like doorways leading from the Fade and into Thedas. While this one is closed, it is basically 'unlocked' if you will."

"Then how do we seal the damn thing?" Varric asked holding his crossbow tightly in his hands.

"Mahanon will have to use his mark to force the Rift open." Solas explained motioning for him to step forward. "Once he does, he will be able to properly seal it. But be warned, opening the Rift will draw attention from the Fade."

"That mean's demons." Cassandra finished drawing her sword and readying her shield. "Everyone prepare yourselves! No matter what comes through this Rift we will hold our ground!"

Swallowing past the lump that'd been steadily building in his throat, Mahanon stepped up so he stood side by side with Solas before the Rift. "How do I…well open the Rift?" Mahanon asked, wincing as the mark on his hand started to ache in reaction to his close proximity to the Rift.

"I do not know." Solas answered truthfully. "But hold your mark towards the Rift, and I'm sure that the answer will come to you."

Taking one last deep breath in a futile attempt to settle his nerves Mahanon thrust his hand towards the closed Rift. '_Please Mythal, let this work.'_

The Rift began shifting in response to his mark. Gritting his teeth he fought against the waves of fatigue that racked his body as once more lightning arched out from his hand and struck the closed Rift. "Believe in the Maker men!" He heard Cassandra shout as the Rift started shifting faster. "And you shall have no fear of whatever is too come!"

Without warning the connection between Mahanon and the Rift severed when the Rift sent out a powerful pulse that knocked him off his feet and straight onto his backside.

The Rift was indeed now open. And the denizens of the Fade were trying to make their way through. Shades and sylvan demons clawed and clamored trying their best to get through the narrow opening even as the archers lining the crater did their best to keep them at bay. "That's it men!" Cassandra shouted holding her sword high. "Keep the pressure up! Mahanon! Seal the Rift now bef-"

The Rift pulsed again, this time sending all of the nearby soldiers spiraling away from it and forcing the archers to take cover. As the green light settled the spots slowly dissipated from his vision, Mahanon stared up in horror at what had managed to get through. A demon, three times taller than the humans around it, stood looking around slightly almost as if it was confused as to how it got here. Horns and spikes, too numerous to count, littered the purple skin of the demon making its massive appearance appear even more menacing.

A Pride demon. One of the most powerful demons in the Fade. And it was now standing upon the rocks of Thedas looking down at the humans as if they were nothing more than bugs to be crushed beneath its foot.

Seeing the demon take a step towards where Leliana and Cassandra were laying, Mahanon acted. Slamming his staff into the ground he channeled as much magic he could through his staff and into the ground. The ground between the demon and the _shemlen_ responded to his commands, as spikes, composed of the rocks and rubble of the ruins, formed up creating a wall preventing the demon from reaching the _shemlen_, but at the same time trapping him with the demon.

The demon stopped, took one look at the wall, and then turned towards him. Its beady black eyes blinked as if trying to understand what it was seeing. But that confusion only lasted a moment as the demon let out an ear piercing cry before charging at him.

"Oh shit," Mahanon shouted diving out of the way as the demon charged passed.

Rolling back to his feet Mahanon lashed out with his staff sending a wave of lightning at the demon. But instead of striking, searing, and wounding the demon like he expected, the demon just simply shrugged off his attack as if it were nothing.

"Double shit." Mahanon muttered backing up while keeping his staff before him. "Okay, new plan."

Slamming his staff back into the ground Mahanon dug deep into his magical reserves trying to create another wall like the one he brought up between the demon and the _shemlen_. But with his power faltering he was only able to create a small cage that barely went up to the demons waist. The demon looked down at his pathetic attempt and casually swatted away his cage as if it wasn't even there.

Shifting his staff to his right hand only, Mahanon dug deeper into his magical reserve than ever before. The air around him shimmered and started to glow as a he tried to hold the magical barrier. It wouldn't save him, but it might just buy him enough time.

While still focusing his magic into his barrier, Mahanon thrust his left hand out blinding in the direction of the Rift. He immediately felt the mark on his hand connect with the Rift and he couldn't help the cry of agony that escaped him as he was drained from both ends.

The demon, apparently catching onto his ploy, let out a sudden cry and rushed him. Raising its massive fist Mahanon was powerless to do anything but watch as the razor sharp claws the size of a wold descended on his barrier.

The light protecting him flung the demons attack back, but not before faltering more than slightly forcing Mahanon to pour every last ounce of power he hand into it.

Feeling his legs give out he feel to his knees. His hold on his staff and his connection to the Rift the only things preventing him from falling face first into the stone rubble.

The demon roared again as its massive claws descended once more. This time when the claws struck the shield they cut clean through, shattering his barrier, but having their path altered just enough so they narrowly avoided Mahanon.

With no magic left within him, and the Rift constantly draining what little life he had left. Mahanon could do nothing more than watch as the demon raised its clawed hand once more. "_Emma shem'nan. Halam sahlin." _He muttered feeling the Rift the pull on his being one last time as the claws descended on him.

The felt the searing pain as the tip of the beast's claws dug into his skin just above his right eye. And then there was nothing but blissful darkness.

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**Again please please review! Please don't make me beg...See y'all in the next chapter!**


	4. The Inquisition Is Reborn

**Alright chapter 4. My muse is kicking it into overdrive here. **

**Just a quick shout out and thank you to Apollo Wings, edboy4926 and zezia333 for reviewing the last chapter! Thank you all so much! I love hearing what y'all think! *Hint Hint Wink Wink* *cough* review please *cough***

**Also a big thank you to everyone who's altered or added this story to their favorites! **

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**Chapter 4**

Mahanon was floating. That was the only way he could describe the sensation of weightlessness that he was feeling. He had no sense of time wherever he was. He could've been floating there listlessly for hours or days or maybe even years he didn't know. There was no up, no down, no direction what so ever. Just an endless sea of white.

As he floated in the sea of white vague images brought on by emotions slowly filtered through his mind. Memories of happier times with his parents as they taught him how to hold a bow properly for the first time. His joy as his Keeper and the clan's craftsman helped him craft his staff. His pride when the Keeper named his as her First. The determination he felt when the Keeper ordered him to spy on the conclave that'd been called for by the Chantry's Divine. The confusion he felt upon waking and finding himself in the custody of the same _shemlen_ he'd been ordered to spy on. And lastly, the acceptance he felt as he watched the demon of pride's claw fall on him while he closed the Rift below the Breach.

The sea of white slowly dissipated as Mahanon reflected on his past. As the memories of the pride demon drew to a close the blinding white light was gone, replaced instead with a meadow full of waist high grass. Closing his eyes he let a small smile cross his lips as he listened to the wind in the tress and breathed in the smells of the forest. By the Creator's, he hadn't even realized how much he'd missed his clan and home until this moment.

_'Well if this is death…this isn't so bad.'_ He thought as he held out his hand, letting the tall grass gently kiss his palm.

Turning in a small circle Mahanon took careful stock of his surroundings. The meadow he was standing in was only perhaps a few dozen paces across, surrounded on all sides by thick tress. The only blemish in this perfect world was a not so small white stone statue that stood flush with the tree line behind him.

_'Well, I don't have anything better to do.'_ Mahanon thought as he walked slowly through the tall grass towards the statue. '_At least not until Falon'Din comes to take me to my final rest.'_

"Then you will have a long wait ahead of you child."

Mahanon spun on his heel, his right hand twitching around his back grasping for his staff but only getting air. '_That's right. I'm dead. No need for a staff here.'_

The leaves on the trees surrounding the small meadow started shifting heavily as a sudden wind blew through. In the center of the vale the unnatural wind started gathering, collecting dust, leaves, and grass as it swirled. The center of the vortex began taking shape, creating a rough outline of someone, or rather something.

Mahanon's eyes widened considerably as the winds died and he suddenly found himself no longer alone in the vale. Dropping to one knee in the high grass he pressed both of his fists against the cool soil. "_Andaran atish'an, Falon'Din."_

"I am sorry young one, but I am not the guide. At least not the guide through the Beyond."

Mahanon's head snapped up. If this wasn't Falon'Din come to guide him…then who was it? The instant he laid eyes upon the spirit Mahanon knew. He knew it down to his very soul. Any of the People would. "Forgive my misconception All-Mother, the Great-Protector, Mythal." He said lowering his head again.

Even though he couldn't hear her approach, Mahanon could feel her. Her presence was so…peaceful. So loving. He could scarcely breathe. "Rise, Mahanon Lavellan. The People bend their knee far too quickly."

Mahanon shot up as if he were on fire. But he would not raise his eyes. Standing before the Creator Mythal was one thing, but he would not dishonor her so by looking at her.

Semi-transparent fingers cupped his chin, forcing his face and eyes upwards. He couldn't see the All-Mother, at least not in detail. She was little more than a vague outline of a woman with no distinguishing features. "Have you come to take me too my final rest All-Mother?" He asked hopefully.

The translucent fingers left his chin. "No child. It is not yet your time, for your task is not yet completed."

Mahanon's brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what the All-Mother was telling him. Sighing with realization he cursed himself. "I failed to close the Breach, didn't I All-Mother?"

"Do not fret Mahanon." Mythal cooed, her translucent hand stroking his cheek. "For no single mortal, no matter how powerful, would be able to close the Breach in the manner you attempted."

"So it was all for nothing then?" He asked trying to make sense of what was going on.

Her fingers leaving his skin left him feeling hollow and empty inside. "No child. Your actions managed to stem the tide of the Breach's growth. And now, you have allies that will help you seal the Breach fully."

"Humans." Mahanon hissed knowing who the All-Mother was referring too. "You would have me side with those who seek to end our ways? Who seek to end you?"

"If it saves my children, then yes." Mythal answered, her hand rising and resting on his chest. "You still carry so much hatred in your heart child."

Mahanon felt himself nearly breaking. "I – it's all I have left of them All-Mother."

"No it is not child." Mythal cooed, her hand moving from his chest to his head. "They are here, as well as in your heart."

Mahanon closed his eyes trying in vain to keep the tears from falling. "And now you ask me to work with those who took them from me?"

"Those who seek to aid you are not those who caused your pain child. You must remember that." Mythal said stepping away from him.

Once the All-Mother was several paces away from him she raised her arms. From each outstretched palm a sphere of light grew until he was staring at two orbs of light roughly as tall as him. "The path is yours child." She said motioning with her right. "To go on through the Beyond." This time her left arm waved. "Or to go back and complete what you started. But know this. Either by chance or destiny, you are the only one who can seal the tears in the Veil."

Mahanon looked once at the sphere to the All-Mother's right and then once at the one to her left. "It's not like I really have much of a choice." He sighed dejectedly.

"Those who are destined to shape history rarely do child." The All-Mother said as the orb to her right, the one that would take him Beyond, died. "A word before you go however. Not all humans are like the ones who wounded you so. Give those who now fight at your side a chance. You might just learn that most of your preconceptions about the humans are false. Just as they will learn that most of their preconceptions about the dalish are false."

Keeper Isthimaethoriel had said almost the same words to him some time ago when he lashed out at a group of human merchants that'd had the misfortune of traveling too close to their camp. He hadn't killed any of them. But the clan was forced to flee quickly as the Templar's were quick to respond. He hadn't paid much attention at the time. But hearing the words from the All-Mother…well the message had definetly sunk in this time.

"I will…try All-Mother." He said, bowing to the Creator.

"That is all I can ask child." Mythal said before moving aside. The wind, which had been silent, slowly grew again carrying away what'd been the All-Mother leaving nothing but her voice behind. "Stay safe and stay strong. Seek the other two who carry the burden of change. Together you three shall stand as one on the precipice of change. When the time comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you will learn how to fly."

* * *

Opening his eyes was nearly impossible. After stepping through the orb that Mythal had created for him he knew only darkness and the sense of falling a great distance. While the falling eventually ended, the darkness did not retreat so easily. His senses returned so slowly it was almost torture. The first was his sense of touch. He could tell that he was lying on something at least somewhat soft, but with dozens of pointy edges poking into his back. A straw bed perhaps. He was also warm. Very warm. Whatever type of blanket was covering him was certainly doing its job well.

Next was his sense of smell. He could smell…wood. Not the distinctive smell of tress, but close. He could also smell…were those flowers? As the ringing in his ears lessened he could hear the unmistakable sound of a fire crackling. Opening his eyes he fought to try and get some semblance of focus in his vision. Or at least in his left eye that was. For some reason his right eye remained in darkness no matter how much he willed it to open.

Shakily and with no small amount of effort he managed to get his right hand disentangled from the heavy blanket covering him and felt his face. The right half of his face was covered in a thick wool bandage, with two pieces that wrapped around his head to hold it in place.

Dropping his arm with a sigh Mahanon turned his head, trying to figure out where he was with his one good eye. He was in some sort of _shemlen_ house that much was for certain. It wasn't the same as walking in his aravel with his clan mates, but at least it was a step up from waking in a _shemlen _dungeon like last time.

Moving his elbows under his back he began the slow process of trying to sit up right. Dear Mythal! How long had he been laying here for! His back must've cracked and popped in at least ten different places out of protest!

The sudden noise of glass shattering and a sharp intake of breath made Mahanon rush to his feet. But after Creator's only knew how long in bed his legs didn't want to obey his commands. So instead of landing gracefully on his feet ready for a fight like he was used to, he end up in a pile of tangled limbs and blanks on the floor.

"Oh Maker! I'm – I'm so sorry Herald! Please be okay! Oh, this cannot happen now…please Maker don't let this happen now!" A voice coming from the same direction as the broken glass shouted making Mahanon wince at the high pitched tone.

Disentangling himself from the blankets enough so he could sit upright again he looked around trying to find the culprit. What he found was a small elf girl who couldn't have been but a five or so summers younger than he. He would've even considered her pretty, if she didn't look as if he were about to sprout two heads.

"I'm – I'm so sorry my lord Herald. Lady Cassandra will want to know that you – you're…um…"

Mahanon nearly laughed as her words died off. He knew exactly why. While she'd been talking he had been working on getting some feeling back into his legs, which inadvertently caused the blanket that'd been covering him to slip down to his waist. Unlike most Firsts or Seconds, Mahanon didn't let his position in the clan affect his contribution to them. He still went out with the hunters at least once a week, sometimes more, and it showed. But it wasn't his body that caused the elf girl to falter. He had taken his vallaslin ceremony quite a bit more seriously than most.

While the vine like markings that surrounded his eyes, traveled down his nose, and spread across his chin were a fine sentiment for most. Mahanon wanted more. He wanted there to be no question as to where his allegiance laid. To that end, his vallaslin markings continued down past his neck across his chest, back, shoulders, and down to his elbows. It had taken nearly a year, but by the time it was done the vine like patterns, some as thick as two finger widths, covered nearly a quarter of his upper body.

Smirking slightly at the elf girl's discomfort he wrapped the blanket around his lower half before attempting to stand. While the dalish were usually fairly causal about their bodies, he knew from first and second hand accounts that the humans, and by extension the elves who lived with them, were usually not so causal. And if the sight of his vallaslin covered upper body could leave the girl speechless and stain her cheeks red, he wasn't sure he wanted to know what would happen to her if he showed her the _rest_ of his vallaslin.

"Are you alright?" He asked, finally managing to get to his feet albeit fairly awkwardly.

If anything the red on the girl's cheeks only intensified. She started fidgeting in place as she spoke, her words starting slow but picking up like a racing halla. "Am I…oh my Lord Herald I – I'm so sorry I was supposed to bring you this, oh Lady Cassandra will be wanting to know you're awake - and I was told to be quiet as you needed your rest and – oh please don't tell me that I woke you my Lord I – oh Maker!" With a cry she dropped to all fours nearly pressing her face against the wooden panels. "Please forgive me, my Lord Herald!"

The woman's antics where making Mahanon feel more than a little uncomfortable. As his clan's First he was used to being on the receiving end of formal welcomes, but this was just getting more than a little ridiculous. And what was with this 'Lord Herald'? It was a title he had never heard of before.

"Please," Mahanon began as gently as he could, tightening the blanket around him and taking a step towards the woman. "You have no reason to be afraid of me, or too grovel so."

The woman's eyes shot up to his. Creator's, the look in her eyes. He might've well have just insisted that the sun rose in the west. "But my Lord Herald…you closed the Rifts! You saved us all! You walked the Fade and came back! I could never disrespect you so! I – oh Maker! Lady Cassandra will be wanting to know that you're awake my Lord Herald! I'll go and inform her at once!"

Reaching out towards her, he tried to tell her to wait. But the words died on the tip of his tongue as she was up and out the door before he could even respond. "Elgar'nan…what fresh Fade nonsense is this." Mahanon sighed wondering as to the meaning of this Lord Herald business. "Creator's…she couldn't even tell me where my clothes where before running off? Just wonderful."

While holding onto the sheet with one hand, Mahanon moved about the room awkwardly trying to find something to wear. "Good you're awake. I figured that was the case once that girl ran out of here in near hysterics."

Mahanon was seriously starting to think that the demon had done more damage than he original thought. Either that or he was seriously slipping to have let someone sneak in without him noticing. "Solas…right?" Mahanon asked turning to face the elf that'd helped him up on the mountain.

The bald elf nodded in response. "That is correct. I'm glad to see that your memory at least seems to be in order."

Brining a hand to his face he felt around the edges of the bandages that were covering half of his face. "I take it that I have you to thank for the healing?" He asked, wincing as he touched a particularly sensitive spot.

Again Solas simply nodded. "That is correct. I healed you as best I could, as did the local apothecary, the village healer, that elf girl you drove to hysterics, and Sister Leliana and Lady Cassandra for that matter as well."

Mahanon didn't necessarily like the fact that he was now basically indebted to a bunch of _shemlen_ and flat ears. But he could swallow his pride when need be. "Thank you, Solas." He said inclining his head slightly. "For your help. And, I apologize for my words on the mountain. They were…unfounded."

For a few seconds the two elves did nothing but stare at one another in silence. Without saying a word Solas came up to Mahanon, took his head in his hands and began moving it around in examination. "What are you doing?" Mahanon asked as the other elf twisted his head in a rather painful manner.

"You thanked me and then apologized for your earlier actions." Solas explained letting go of his head. "I was merely wondering if there was more damage done to your head than I originally thought."

"Very funny." Mahanon sighed stepping away from Solas. "Speaking of…how bad is it?"

"Not nearly as bad as it might look." Solas explained going over to a nearby dresser and pulling out a pair of breeches for him as well as a shirt. "You lost consciousness at just the right moment. Had you stayed upright even a second longer, the demons claws would've cleaved clean through your skull. But seeing as how you were falling backwards, the claws only pierced your flesh but left your eye unscathed. Once the bandages come off you will be able to see again. But the scaring will be impressive none the less. Perhaps they will serve as a lesson to you about the dangers of facing a pride demon by yourself. But I doubt it."

While Solas was talking, Mahanon was staring down at the clothes he'd been handed as if they were snakes. They were fine clothes to be sure. But they were far too similar in style to the ones that those the pompous _shemlen_ 'Lords' would wear. "Where are my robes?" He asked. He'd feel much better if he could wear the robes of his people rather than dressing up like a _shemlen_.

"Gone." Solas answered. "They were in sorry shape before you decided to take on that demon. And after, well there was hardly enough left to even use as scrap fabric."

Sighing in resignation he dropped his hold on the blanket and began the process of putting on the _shemlen_ clothes. Dear Creators, if his clan could see him now. Dressed in _shemlen_ clothing. They'd never let him live it down. Managing to get his arms through the sleeve of the shirt with only a mild wince he began buttoning the front. Elgar'nan. Why the humans insist on a shirt having so many buttons? "Solas. That girl who was in here before, she called me the 'Lord Herald'. Is that some sort of _shemlen_ title that I don't know about or something?"

Mahanon really didn't like the amused look that Solas was sending his way. "As you emerged from the Rift at the conclave, those who were nearby swore that they saw you accompanied by a woman. You confirmed this as well with Lady Cassandra and Sister Leliana. However what no one, including yourself, can answer is just who she was. But as you emerged with the ability to seal the Rifts and did so at great personal risk to yourself, the humans have come believe that the woman with you was none other than Andraste herself. And they have thusly labeled you the Herald of Andraste."

"Oh…shit." Mahanon sighed dropping heavily onto his bed and burying his head into his hands.

He did of course believe in Andraste. It would be hard not to. But his belief in her was that she was a human who rose to lead an army and helped to free the elves from slavery. And that was it. Creators, he didn't even fully blame the humans from forming a religion based on her. What he did hate was the fact the humans had since twisted her words and actions so that they could claim themselves better than others.

While he didn't believe that it was the human's prophet who helped him escape from the Fade, truthfully he had no better answer. At first he'd believed that it was Mythal that'd come to guide him. And his recent vision seemed to confirm that theory. But even now he was having trouble figuring out if that vision was real, or if it was just wishful thinking.

"I thought you would appreciate it if I brought this along as well."

Picking his head up from his hands Mahanon felt himself involuntarily smile. In Solas's hands was his staff. "Thank you." Mahanon said pushing himself back up and taking the staff from Solas. He would figure out this whole 'Herald' thing later. Hopefully the rumor hadn't spread too far. As pleasant as the thought might be, he wasn't looking forward to having the humans throw themselves at his feet.

"Now that you're up I suggest you go and find Lady Cassandra and Sister Leliana at the Chantry up the hill." Solas said moving aside so that Mahanon could walk pass. "They have much they wish to discuss with you."

"I'm sure." Mahanon mumbled using his staff as a walking stick. "Well, no time like the present."

As he opened the door leading outside Mahanon was forced to cover his one still good eye from the intense light of the sun. Dear Creator's, he really was in there for a long time. The sight that greeted him once his eye adjusted though had him a hair's breadth from unleashing his magic. It looked as if the entire village, and the surrounding villages as well, were gathered outside the hut he was in. Dozens of humans and elves stood in the cold weather staring at him. He could hear a few scattered whispers coming from the crowd, but from his current distance he wasn't able to make any of it out.

As he stood there trying to figure out what was going on, a group of five heavily armed and armored _shemlen_ approached him. On reflex he put one hand behind his back and gathered his magic into his palm. He wasn't about to take any chances with the people who, at least last he remembered, wanted him executed.

But instead of arresting him or trying to bring him harm, the five _shemlen_ stopped a respectful distance from him and – saluted him. "My Lord Herald." The foremost human said bowing. Well so much for this 'Herald' thing not getting out. "Lady Cassandra, Sister Leliana, and Commander Cullen have all requested your presence at the Chantry. We are here to escort you my Lord."

Mahanon looked around from Solas trying to find some sort of support. Only to find that the elder elf had given him the slip. Bloody traitor. "My Lord?" The foremost guard asked tentatively. "Are you alright sire?"

"Yes." Mahanon sighed marching forward slowly. "Just…trying to figure things out. What's…no never mind. Just take me to see Cassandra and Leliana."

"At once my Lord Herald." The guard shouted while saluting. "Form up! We're escorting the Herald of Andraste today!"

Mahanon fought hard to keep himself from physically grimacing. Somewhere the Creator's where having a laugh at him, he was sure of it.

* * *

"I will hear no more of this Seeker! This is utter blasphemy! He should be bound and chained and heading for Val Royeaux! Not paraded around as a hero!"

Mahanon was seriously starting to wonder if he'd offended the Creator's in some horrible way as he walked towards the rear of the Chantry. The short walk from where he awoke to the Chantry had been filled with people shouting his praises, calling him the Herold of Andraste and asking him for the Maker's words. It was insulting, humiliating, and unnerving. Although there was one bright moment during the walk. One ambitious, and very buxom, elf woman managed to slip through the ring of guards and threw herself into his arms. The proposition she'd whispered into his ear before the guards managed to pull her off of him had him smiling the entire rest of the short trip. He would definitely have to find her once his business here was done. Whatever that might be.

But not even the memory of that moment could keep him from scowling as he heard his voice come from the back room of the Chantry. That grating voice could only belong to the same _shemlen_ who was demanding his execution while Mahanon was trying to save his pathetic life.

"That decision does not belong to you Chancellor." He could hear Cassandra counter.

"He is a heathen!" Roderick yelled. "He doesn't even believe in the Maker! And even if he did, Andraste would never choose a mage, and an elf at that, to be her herald! He should be-"

"I should be what _shemlen_?" Mahanon asked throwing open the door and marching in.

Three sets of eyes; one filled with surprise, one with hate, and one with mirth turned and stared as one as he made his way into the room. Roderick, although obviously taken aback by his appearance, was the first to recover of the three. "Guards!" He shouted motioning towards the two guards who'd followed Mahanon into the Chantry. "Restrain him and prepare a carriage for Val Royeaux immediately."

"Disregard that. And leave us" Cassandra countered glaring angrily at the Chantry priest. "Need I remind you Chancellor that many, if not all, who are in this room, and this village, currently owe Mahanon their lives?"

"I do not owe this knife-ear anything!" Roderick sneered.

Mahanon nearly fried the _shemlen_ bastard right there and then. The only thing that stopped him was a firm hand against his own that held him in place. Leliana's cool blue eyes gazed at him condescendingly for what he'd been about to do. "That is no way to talk to anyone Chancellor." Leliana said coolly leveling her gaze away from him and towards Roderick. "Let alone the Herald of Andraste."

"This kn – elf – is no Herald." Roderick hissed. "Sure he stabilized the Breach, but he didn't seal it. And now here he stands a hero. How do we know that this wasn't part of his plan all along?!"

"Do you honestly believe I would create a plan that could've killed me more than once _shemlen_? Do you truly believe that I would be crazy enough to work with demons?" Mahanon asked motioning towards his face. "Or do you believe I faked this injury as well? I did everything I could to seal the Breach and it damn near cost me my life."

"And yet you still live." Roderick sneered. "A rather happy coincidence wouldn't you say?"

"Have a care with what you say Chancellor." Cassandra said sharply. "The truth is that the Breach is still there and Mahanon here remains our best and only hope for sealing it for good. And I believe that the Maker sent him to us at our darkest hour."

"Um, you do realize that I'm dalish right?" Mahanon said growing tired of the debate. "I believe in my own gods, not your Maker."

"You see! A heretic!" Roderick was so angry he was nearly frothing at the mouth. "There is no way the Maker would send one such as him to our aid!"

"And yet he was exactly what we needed when we needed it the most Chancellor." Cassandra counter coolly. "If that is not the work of the Maker, then how would you explain it?"

"The Breach still remains Chancellor." Leliana continued as Cassandra turned her back on everyone and walked to the back of the small room. "His mark is still our only way of sealing the Rifts and the Breach. He is needed here with us."

"That is not for you to decide Sister." Roderick said placing emphasis on the 'Sister'.

Before Leliana could saying anything else Cassandra returned and slammed a thick book down on the table that dominated the center of the room. "Do you know what this is Chancellor?" Cassandra nearly hissed rasping her fist against the books cover. "A writ from the Divine herself, granting us the authority to act as we deem fit. And as of this moment…I hereby declare the Inquisition reborn!"

Mahanon didn't fully understand what had just happened, but judging by the way that Roderick face suddenly went completely ashen it was not good. At least for the Chantry. Which meant of course that Mahanon was all for it. But Cassandra apparently wasn't done yet. Pressing her advantage she advanced on the ashen faced Chancellor. "We will close the Breach. We will find those responsible. And we will return order to the land. With or without the Chantry's help."

After being backed up nearly to the wall Roderick pushed past Cassandra and made for the door. "You fools. I tried to guide you away from this path for your own good. If you continue the Chantry will brand the both of you as heretics. Mark my words."

Watching the irate Chancellor leave, Mahanon held his tongue until the man was out the door and well out of ear shot. "So is someone going to tell me what is going on?" He asked turning back to Leliana and Cassandra.

"This is the Divine's directive," Leliana explained placing her hand lightly on top of the book. "Reform the Inquisition of old. Find those who are capable and stand against the coming darkness."

"We're not ready Leliana." Cassandra sighed. "Our people are scattered to the wind. We have no leader. And our Chantry support just walked out that door."

Leliana just shook her head in response. "It doesn't matter Cassandra. We must act now. Hopefully…with Mahanon at our side." Turning her head towards him she regarded him carefully. "Outside of your ability to seal the Breach and the Rifts, your deeds and name will draw many to our cause."

Mahanon didn't particularly care for that last part. "I will not be a puppet dancing on the strings of your Chantry." He hissed, and instantly wishing he hadn't as his face reminded him rather painfully that it wasn't fully healed yet.

"And we are not asking you to be one." Leliana countered softly. "But like it or not, by sealing the Rifts and stopping the Breach you have become a symbol to the people, just as much as the Hero of Ferelden or the Champion Kirkwall. And as for the Chantry, if you hadn't noticed our Chantry support just walked out that door."

"And what if I don't want to stay?" Mahanon asked.

"The door is right there." Cassandra said vehemently. "No one is forcing you to stay. If you want to go and bury your head in your trees and try to pretend that nothing is wrong, then feel free. No one will stop you. Just don't expect anyone to help you once the demons come hunting for you and your people."

"Cassandra!" Leliana gasped.

"It's alright." Mahanon sighed. "Her point is well made. And truthfully if our roles were to be reversed, I wouldn't have been able to say it much better myself."

Leliana and Cassandra both suddenly looked hopeful. "Does that mean you'll stay and help us?" Leliana asked, unable to disguise the eagerness in her voice.

Mahanon bit his lip and looked away from the two women, his mind going back to his vision or dream or whatever it was he'd just experienced. Even if it was just a dream, he wasn't about to disappoint the All-Mother. For her, he could put aside his anger and work with the _shemlen_. "Yes."

Both women sighed in obvious relief. "Thank you." Leliana said smiling at him.

Fidgeting under the scrutiny of the two he tried to find a way to get the attention off of him. "So…what do we do now?"

"For now, you will do nothing." Cassandra said.

"We mean that right now there is not much we can do." Leliana said quickly, raising a hand stopping the retort that was on his lips. "We are too small right now. One wrong move and we will be crushed before we can even begin. Our chief ambassador, our commanding officer, and the majority of our soldiers are still out in the field. Once we have consolidated our forces and learned more about our current situation we will make our move. And until that time, we need you to rest and recover. You are no good to anyone, especially yourself, half dead."

"Alright." Mahanon agreed quickly surprising the two women in the room. Although he wouldn't admit it, the walk up to the Chantry and this meeting had taken a lot out of him. If it wasn't for his staff, he was pretty sure that he'd be on the floor right now. "I'll be back at my…well where am I staying?"

"The house that you awoke in has been donated for your use." Cassandra answered.

"Right, well I'll just head back there then." Mahanon said turning and slowly making his way out of the Chantry. "Call me when you need me Sisters."


	5. A Potential Ally

**Here we go again folks! Chapter 5. Once more I wanna thank those of you who've added this story to your favorites or alters. And a big thank you to those of you who reviewed the last chapter! So thank you: Apollo Wings and Nihlus Oken!**

**Now onto a serious question, and I really would like you're guys input on it. Those of you who've read my works in the past know that I always put some romance into my stories, and this one will be no different. My question is who would you all like to see? I've done both the Cassandra and Josephine romances in the game and both have their good points and not so good points. So your choices are Cassandra, Josephine, or an OC character. Be advised that the romance will be later in the story. But I want to start planning things out now so please let me know what you guys want to see.**

**Other pairings are already established (Mainly Hawke's and Alim's). And again if you've read my works before you probably have a good idea about who their other half is.**

**Again thanks for reading every one! I hope you enjoy this chapter and please let me know what you guys want to see in terms of romance for the future!**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"-so then we're all sitting there in my room at the back of the Hanged Man when all of sudden the door to the room right next to mine flies open and some little whelp comes stumbling out still trying to get his breeches on. And who's on his tail? None other than our dear pirate queen! Completely bare as the day she was born!"

Mahanon had to concentrate very had on not laughing too hard at Varric's tale while Solas carefully cut at the bandages around his head. It had been five days since Mahanon had fist awoken in the village of Haven. Five long utterly boring days. Although it wouldn't have been so bad if he could stick his head outside his door for more than five minutes without some _shemlen_ or elf spotting him and shouting 'hail the Herald'! In an attempt to avoid an unnecessary confrontations, that would've more than likely been started by him out of frustration, he settled on just staying in the hut that he'd been given. That wasn't to say he never went outside, he was just fairly quick about it.

"So then what happened?" He asked tilting his head to the side to allow Solas better access to the bandages.

Taking a long pull from the bottle in his hand, Varric let out a low belch before continuing. "Well needless to say Junior's jaw just about hit the floor at the sight of her. Hawke somehow managed to play it off as an everyday occurrence and Daisy just looked confused. But before any of us could say anything Isabella rears back and lands a solid kick right in the man's balls. 'Treat me like a whore!' She yelled while managing to land two more solid kicks to the poor slob. 'I'd feel more if I just used one finger! Now scram _little_ man'. Luckily the boy actually did possess something resembling brains and made like a mabari after a steak towards the door, showing off to the whole tavern just how 'little' he really was."

Mahanon, surprisingly enough, found that he genuinely enjoyed Varric's company. The dwarf had been perhaps his most frequent visitor during his self-imposed isolation. Sure the others came in to check up on him, but usually those visits weren't just for pleasure. Whenever Solas came around it was guaranteed that they were either going to meditate or go through some magical exercises or they were going to be changing out his bandages. And whenever Cassandra or Leliana came around it usually was with some update about the Inquisition. Although in all honesty he didn't know why they constantly kept telling him things. They were the leader of this whole Inquisition thing, not he. The only time the two didn't come to talk to him about the Inquisition was the one time Leliana had delivered to him a new set of robes. They looked semi-dalish, but anyone who looked would be able to tell that they were just normal traveling clothes that'd been heavily altered. But he still appreciated the sentiment none the less.

"And that wasn't even the best part." Varric continued laughing to himself. "After she kicked the little guy out, Isabella turns to us, say's 'not a word' and then turns around and marches right back into her room. Well a little while later things had finally started to calm down when Hawke noticed that Daisy was just staring at her hand. So, being the curious guy he is Hawke asked her what was wrong. And with a completely straight face, Daisy turns to him and asks, 'what could Isabella feel more of with just her fingers'? Needless to say the drink that Hawke _had_ been drinking was quickly emptied across the opposite side of the room. Which was pretty impressive considering it went through his nose to get there."

Mahanon couldn't stop the laugh that escaped him. Of course his laughter was quickly ended as Solas cuffed him upside the back of his head. "Stop moving." The elder elf chide. "Or do you not want these bandages removed?"

"Take it easy on the kid baldy." Varric laughed leaning back in his seat and taking another long drink.

"My name is Solas, not baldy." Solas countered as Mahanon felt the bandages around his face loosen completely.

"Eh, loosen up baldy." Varric sighed setting his now empty bottle down. "Sometimes I swear you're more tightly wound than Blondie. And a tightly wound mage makes me nervous."

Tuning out the back and forth between the two, Mahanon reached up and nearly ripped the bandage off now that it was loose. He could've cried as the right side of his face felt fresh air for the first time in five days, longer if he add in the time he was unconscious. Moving carefully he prodded at the side of his face trying to get a feel for the scarring.

"Here," Solas said handing him a small mirror roughly the size on his hand. "As you know healing magic will usually heal without a scar. However injuries caused by demons are usually semi resilient to healing. So your scar is about as small as it's going to get."

Holding the small mirror by its handle, Mahanon took a deep steading breath before looking down at his reflection. The demon's claws had certainty done a number on him. A single scar, roughly as wide as his little finger, ran down the length of his face all the way from his hair line over his right eye and to his jaw. It was accompanied by a second, much smaller scar that started just below his lower lip and went over his chin.

"Not too shabby, scar." Varric commented.

"'Scar'? Is that you're new nickname for me or something?" Mahanon asked as he set the mirror aside.

Varric shrugged. "Sure. Can't really be calling you 'kid' anymore. Not after you had the balls to take on a demon of that size by yourself. Speaking of, one of these days you're going to have to tell me just what was running through your head when you fought that thing. I want to get every detail down before I begin writing."

"You're going to write about this?" Mahanon asked, leaning back in his seat as Solas took the last remaining seat for himself.

"You're damn right I am." Varric answered, reaching below the table and pulling out a new unopened bottle of wine and three glasses. "Happy 'bandage-off-day' scar." The dwarf said mockingly, pouring out three equal measures of the wine.

Picking up the offered glass, Mahanon swirled the blood red contents for a second before sniffing the liquid. The earthy smell of the wine brought a smile to his lips. His clan didn't get wine too terribly often, as they usually had to trade with _shemlen_ in order to have it, but whenever they did he always ended up downing a bottle by himself. Usually by accident.

"Cheers." Varric said holding his glass out over the center of the table, much to the confusion of the two elves present. "It's a human thing. Although I swear they stole it from the dwarves. Basically it's a celebratory action. Someone say's cheers, everyone clinks glasses, and then everyone drinks. Simple enough right."

Grinning slightly, Mahanon gently rasped his glass against Varric's, followed by Solas's glass. "Guess that's one human tradition I don't mind." Mahanon smirked taking a slow drink of the wine.

Varric threw his head back nearly finishing off all the wine in his glass with one gulp. "Of course not! It involves drinking! Those traditions are never bad, no matter what culture they originated from!"

For a while the three men sat in silence drinking glass after glass of wine. "You are growing up Mahanon." Solas said suddenly after draining his third glass of wine.

"How so?" Mahanon asked opening another bottle, courtesy of Varric. Seriously, where was the_ durgen'len_ hiding all of these bottles?

Setting his glass down on the table, and holding his hand over the top as Mahanon moved to pour him more, Solas steepled his fingers under his chin. "That was the first time that you referred to the humans as humans and not _shemlen."_

Fill his glass nearly to the rim Mahanon leaned back in his chair. "It's more of a temporary truce. I was advised, at least I believe I was, to try and play nice with the _shemlen_ for the time being."

"I see," Solas said, one eyebrow raising. "And who advised you of this?"

The spiced wine was starting to make Mahanon feel more than a little warm. "After we attempted to seal the Breach I – well I had a vision. I think."

Solas's eyes narrowed and Varric's grew curious. "You think you had a vision?" Solas asked, looking for clarification. "What makes you uncertain?"

Downing the rest of his glass he was disappointed to see that the bottle was empty. Had they really finished off two bottles already? Varric only had one glass out of the second…he had to have spilled some. There was no way he had nearly a full bottle. "Well…oh damn…I dreamt that Mythal came to me and told me that my task wasn't done. That the Breach wasn't closed. And that I would need the help of the _shemlen_ to seal it."

Neither dwarf nor elf said anything after Mahanon's confession. "Well," Mahanon sighed running a hand through his now shoulder length white hair. "Do you two think I'm crazy now or what?"

Varric just laughed. "Scar, after all the crazy shit I've seen it would take more than a vision from one of your gods to make me think you're crazy."

"It may have been a spirit of compassion." Solas said thoughtfully. "There is the possibility that it was indeed Mythal. But more what is more likely is that you encountered a spirit who sensed your distress and merely wished to help. Tell me, did the spirit name itself, or did you name it?"

Mahanon thought back on his vision, a feat that was becoming increasingly difficult as the wine settled in. "I – I believe that I named the spirit. But it – no. It never said that it _was_ Mythal. I – I guess I just assumed."

It may have been because of the wine, but Solas almost looked relieved. "You must be careful in the Fade Mahanon. Never name a spirit. You are lucky that the spirit you encountered was benign. Had it been benevolent, it would've latched onto the name and used it to enter your being and corrupt you."

"I know." Mahanon sighed feeling like an idiot. He knew better. His Keeper had spent hours upon hours lecturing to him about the Beyond and its dangers.

All conversation between the three men died as the door to Mahanon's small hut opened and one of the _shemlen_ guards that'd been 'assigned' to him by Cassandra walked in. "My Lord Herald." The guard said saluting. "Lady Cassandra and Sister Leliana are requesting your presence at the Chantry my Lord."

"Well, that's my cue to leave." Varric said standing.

"And mine as well." Solas echoed, standing with the _durgen'len_.

Mahanon furrowed his brow at the two. "You know that you two can join me right?"

Varric started shifting nervously. "Well scar, let's just say that it's all for the best if our lady Seeker and I don't share the same small room together. Last time we did…well let's just leave it at it's a bad idea." As Varric walked by the guard he paused a second and tapped the taller man. "Take the scenic route to the Chantry. He's had a bottle and I'd rather _not_ give the Lady Seeker another reason to want to hit me."

"And I have other tasks that I must attend too as well." Solas added pausing only briefly to nod to the soldier before heading out the door.

Sighing Mahanon got to his feet, blinking rapidly when he stumbled slightly. Elgar'nan…since when was a single bottle of wine enough to make him even the slightest bit unbalanced. "Alright." Mahanon said giving shaking his head. "Let's get this over with shall we."

* * *

The guard had apparently taken Varric's words as more than just a suggestion. The shem led him around the entirety of the village at least twice before leading him towards the Chantry. And there, standing just outside the Chantry with her arms crossed across her chest and her idly tapping against the frozen ground was the stone woman herself. "My Lady Cassandra!" His guard nearly shouted.

"I'll take him from here Corporal." Cassandra said uncrossing her arms and focusing on him. "I hope that scratch of yours won't impair your ability in battle."

"I've had worse." Mahanon shot back. "Besides, I think it just makes me look all the more dashing, don't you think?"

Cassandra didn't respond right away preferring instead to stare at him. "Not even in the slightest." She answered turning on her heel and pushing open the doors of the Chantry leaving him no choice but to follow.

They were half way through the Chantry before Cassandra spoke again. "Does it trouble you?"

"What, my scar?" Mahanon asked, one hand going to his face out of reflex. "Not really. Just aches slightly."

"Not that one." Cassandra said pointing towards his left hand. "I mean the mark on your hand. Does it trouble you?"

Lifting his left hand he began to gently caress his palm with his right thumb and forefinger. "Not so much anymore. It hasn't spread since we tried to close the Breach. And I haven't had any flares of pain from it since then as well."

Cassandra nodded curtly. "I guess that is one small victory then. What is truly important though is that the Breach is now stable and you're still alive."

"Aw, I didn't realize you cared so much about me Cass," Mahanon smirked at the irritated look that crossed her face at his nickname for her.

"What I meant was that it is good that you are alive so that you can try to seal the Breach again." Cassandra clarified still glaring daggers at him. "Solas believes that a second attempt will succeed in closing the Breach – provided that we channel more power into your mark. He believes that the Breach was created by a sudden and powerful release of magical power. Only by using a similar level of power will you be able to close the Breach."

Sighing Mahanon let his hand fall back down to his side. "Right, cause giving something no one understands more power always works out for the best in the end."

It could've been a trick of the light, but Mahanon could've sworn he saw the stone woman crack a smile. "Your sense of humor leaves more than a little to be desired. Now come, we've kept the others waiting long enough."

Figuring that it would be in his best interest not to push his luck he kept silent as Cassandra led him towards the back of the Chantry. Leading him to the same room where she declared the rebirth of the inquisition, Cassandra opened the door and entered swiftly making him nearly lung to catch the door before it latched again.

Waiting for them in the small room were three others. Two he recognized as Leliana and the shem commander he met briefly at near the Breach. The third however was new. Her sun-kissed skin instantly separated her from the other two, but it was the way that she held herself that really drew his attention. Leliana, although she looked relaxed, always had her weight shifted onto the balls of her feet ready to move at a moment's notice if need be. The shem commander, as well as Cassandra for that matter, stood with their weight back slightly and their sword arms were also near, or twitching towards, the sword hilts at their waists. But the new woman…while she held herself similarly too Leliana she looked…almost delicate.

"You've already met Commander Cullen," Cassandra said waving towards the blond shem who nodded in response. "He is the leader of the inquisition forces."  
"I'm glad to see that you're alright." The shem, Cullen said with surprising sincerity. Definitely not something he was used to hearing from a _shemlen_. "Very few could've gone toe to toe with a demon as you did and come out with only a scratch."

Figuring that he would be polite, at least for the moment, Mahanon lowered his head in greeting. "_Ma serannas."_

"This is Lady Josephine Montilyet," Cassandra continued motioning towards the sun-kissed woman. "She is our ambassador and chief diplomat."

The sun-kissed woman bowed slightly, a small smile gracing her lips. "_Andaran atish'an _Mahanon Lavellan, First of Clan Lavellan."

Mahanon was pretty sure that his eyebrows had disappeared to his hair line. "You speak elvish?" He asked excitedly. Despite her mild mispronunciation, it was good hear his peoples tongue again.

The woman, Josephine, gave a short embarrassed laugh. "That is the extent of it I'm afraid." She answered honestly, disappointing Mahanon slightly. It would've been nice to hear someone outside of Solas or himself speaking elvish. "I haven't had much interaction with the dalish. Perhaps, if you're willing of course, you could teach me."

"And you already know Sister Leliana." Cassandra said quickly rounding off the interdictions. "She is our spymaster."

Coughing slightly Leliana shot Cassandra a look that promised retribution later. "Yes…although I wouldn't have put it so crassly."

With everyone having been introduced, Mahanon found himself suddenly the center of attention. "Well…_andaran atish'an._ All of you. So…what's next?"

"We need to find a way to increase the amount of power that your mark holds." Cassandra said drawing everyone's attention.

"Which means that we need to approach the rebel mages for help." Leliana added pointing towards the large map on the center table. "And, conveniently enough, they are currently holed up in Red Cliff. Less than a few days ride from Haven."

"And I still disagree." Cullen added shaking his head. "The Templars could suppress the Breach."

At the word 'Templar', Mahanon's blood stilled. Screams filled the back of his mind as his fist tightened trying to suppress the unwelcome intrusion.

"We need power Commander." Cassandra argued, oblivious to Mahanon's inner turmoil. "Enough power to match that which created the Breach."

Cullen though wasn't backing down. "And look at what that level of power did last time. It destroyed the conclave and killed thousands. Including the Divine. How do we know that gathering the same amount of power won't produce the same result? The Templar's could suppress the Breach. Weaken it enough to-"

"Pure speculation." Leliana added dismissively. "The few Templar's within our ranks have tried and failed to suppress the power of the Rifts. We have no reason to suspect that they would fare better against the Breach."

"I was a Templar Sister." Cullen countered heatedly. "I know exactly what they are capable of. And I believe that with numbers they can suppress the Breach."

Mahanon tuned out everything as soon as Cullen said that he was a Templar. Less than a few feet from him was a hound of the Chantry. A butcher. A jailor. The ultimate sign of oppression. Mahanon hadn't even realized that he'd moved until he felt the cool metal of the dagger he kept hidden in along the small of his back. At this distance he would be able to draw it and end the threat before any of the women in the room could reach him. Just a quick flick of his wrist and he could-

"Herald, are you alright?"

The ambassador's question caught him when he already had half of his dagger unsheathed. "Yes." He answered letting go of the small blade and making a showing of scratching his back. "Haven't been sleeping well."

He was still so distracted by the fact that he was in the room with a Templar, even an ex-Templar that he failed to noticed the relieved look that passed between Josephine and Leliana. "Our arguments about who would be better suited to help close Breach are unfortunately, at this time at least, academic. Neither group will entertain the idea of an audience with us. And worse yet, the Chantry has hereby officially denounced the Inquisition – and you specifically Herald."

Taking his eyes off of the Templar was difficult. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to kill the threat before he could be killed. "Call me Mahanon. And why would the Chantry denounce me specifically. I mean, outside the fact I'm dalish and a mage which I'm sure is reason enough for them."

Only Josephine was able to keep her composure as Leliana, Cassandra, and Cullen all shifted uneasily in response to his barb. "Many are calling you the 'Herald of Andraste' and that frightens the Chantry Mahanon. The remaining clerics have declared as blasphemy against Andraste and the Maker. And those of us who follow you have been declared heretics for doing so."

Cassandra growled, quite literally growled beside him. "Chancellor Roderick's doing no doubt."

Josephine shrugged in response. "Or any other number of clerics, chancellors, or mothers who are seeking to separate themselves from the others in an attempt to make themselves be more biddable for the position of Divine. But no matter who initiated the declaration, it limits our options. As it stands right now, we can't even gain an audience with the Templar's or the mages. Let alone an alliance."

Mahanon huffed. Typical shem politics. There was a tear in the sky leading directly to the Fade giving demons free reign to enter their world and all the shem's in power cared about was how to consolidate their power. "Perhaps it would be better if I just wasn't here."

"Don't be too hasty." Cullen said, still oblivious to the hatred Mahanon was feeling in his gut towards the man. "They would've censored us one way or another. You just presented the easiest target, no offense intended of course."

"So what exactly do you need me for?" Mahanon asked still trying to figure out why these four insisted on incorporating him into these planning sessions. It wasn't like he was officially with them. He was just here until the Breach was closed then he was gone.

"While the official Chantry stance is that we are heretics, there are a few high ranking members of the Chantry who do not share that sentiment." Leliana explained. "One such cleric is Mother Giselle. And she has asked to speak with you personally before making her stance known."

"Why does she want to talk to me? If she wants to support this Inquisition, why does she want to talk to me?" Mahanon asked.

The four shem's all exchanged uncertain glances with one another before Leliana finally answered his question. "Because you have been proclaimed as the 'Herald of Andraste'. And she wants to see this Herald for herself before making her stance known."

Mahanon felt a massive headache coming on. '_By the Dread Wolf.'_ He cursed inwardly. '_So much for this Herald nonsense not getting out.'_ "If she's curious about me, then why hasn't she come to see me?"

"She is currently aiding refugee's trying to escape the Mage-Templar war in the Hinterlands just south of Redcliff." Leliana answered without missing a beat. "In the missive she sent through my agents she explained explicitly that she would not leave the refugees to fend for themselves unless she was sure that they would be well cared for."

Mahanon felt like pounding his head against the heavy table. Basically this Mother was in over her head and needed help. So she was blackmailing them into providing said help. Crafty. "Do we really need her?" Mahanon asked.

Again it was Leliana who answered his question. "Mother Giselle knows those involved in the Chantry's decision far better than Cassandra or I. Her advice on the current situation would be invaluable. And while I can understand your distrust of the Chantry, and please believe me I can understand, you most know that the majority of Thedas will follow the Chantry's position. While we might be able to succeed without their direct support, we will get nowhere with their condemnation."

Sighing Mahanon ran a hand through his hair. As much as he would like to deny what Leliana was saying, he knew that it was the unfortunate truth. "Fine." He growled looking down at the map on the table and trying to find the Hinterlands. "So when do we leave?"

"I've already spoke with our lead scout, Scout Master Harding, about heading for the Hinterlands." Cassandra explained. "She and a dozen of her best men will have horses ready for us within the hour."

Mahanon looked at Cassandra quizzically. She'd already spoken to this Harding about heading to the Hinterlands? Which meant that Cassandra already knew where they were going before this 'meeting'. So…what had been the point of all of this? "Fine." He mumbled deciding not to press the issue. "If there's nothing else, then I'll meet up with you at the stables."

The four shem's seemed surprised that he was trying to make his exit. But as they seemed to be making decision without him, he didn't really feel the need, nor did he want for that matter, to stick around. "Very well." Cassandra consented. "If you wish you can collect Varric and Solas as well."

Nodding to each of the four shem's in turn, Mahanon turned heel and marched out of the room before any of the shem's could stop him. '_Hopefully Varric and Solas will be open to coming.'_ Mahanon thought as he marched through the Chantry. '_Elgar'nan help me if I'm stuck with only shemlen for the next couple of days on a mission to save a Chantry priestess. I'd be liable to kill at least one of them out of sheer frustration.'_

* * *

Watching Mahanon storm out of the war room Leliana sighed. That could've gone a lot better. "It would be best if you avoid being in the same room alone with Mahanon in the future Commander Cullen." Josephine said, her quill moving back and forth across her writing board. "At least until he actually trusts you more."

Cullen start sputtering. "Wait, what? Why?"

Sighing Leliana decided to clarify. "Did you not notice him go for the dagger on his back after you announced your former allegiance? Had Josephine not intervened when she did, he would've cut your throat long before any of us could stop him."

Cullen blinked owlishly. "What? Seriously? Why would – oh, right. Mage and a dalish. I'm sure the Templar order hasn't left all that great of an impression on him."

"Obviously not." Cassandra added. "Do you believe he would be open to working with the Templar order?"

Josephine sighed putting her board down. "At the moment I would say no. There is a pain within him, a deep pain. The root of which appears to be the Templar's, if his attack first reaction to Cullen's past is any indication. Perhaps in time we can slowly convince him that not all Templar's are bad. But it will be an uphill struggle to do so."

"Then we will have to tread carefully with him." Leliana agreed before turning on Cassandra. "As you will be spending the most time with him, this task will fall mainly on your shoulders Cassandra. Try to be diplomatic."

Cassandra looked scandalized. "You make it sound as if I am in capable of doing so."

"Not in the slightest." Leliana smirked. "Our new friend just appears to be easily offended. And let us not forget that your first meeting was not under the best of circumstances."

Crossing her arms over her chest Cassandra looked at Leliana crossly. "Fine. Then what do you suggest?"

Josephine was the one with the answer. "Defer to him on this venture. And do not question his decision, at least publically. Show him that you trust his ability to make decisions. Hopefully by showing that you trust him, he will in turn come to trust you and us as well."

* * *

Down in Haven's stables Mahanon stood just beyond the fence that was keeping the shem's horse locked in. When he'd first seen the stables a few days past, his first inclination was to destroy the fence. These were noble and elegant creatures who did not deserve the indignity of being locked in a cage. What stopped him however was the fact that the horses didn't seem to mind their cage. They merely wandered around in their small prison eating what little scraps the humans provided for them.

"You really don't know anything else, do you?" Mahanon whispered quietly as a smaller horse, a pony he believed, came up him and nudged his hand looking for attention.

"I think she likes you."

Turning his head to the side Mahanon looked for the source of the voice and found…nothing. At least not until he looked down slightly and found a freckled faced red haired _durgen'len_ woman that had somehow managed to walk up alongside him without his notice. The_ durgen'len _smiled up at him weakly before giving him a small wave. "Um, sorry didn't mean to startle you Herald. I'm scout Lace Harding, lead scout for the Inquisition."

Now Mahanon was confused. Not by the fact that there was another _durgen'len_ in the camp outside of Varric, as only a fool would turn down the aid of one of the stone children, but that she held such a rank amongst the shems. "Forgive me," Mahanon said quickly realizing that'd he'd been staring silently at her for some time. "I'm Mahanon Lavellan, First of Clan Lavellan. And please forgive my rudeness but, how is it that one of the stone children has come hold such a rank amongst the shems?"

Amongst the dalish, the head scout was a position of honor. Ranking just below the Keeper in the clan's structure. To find such a position to be held by a _durgen'len_ amongst a _shemlen_ army was…surprising.

Sticking her hand through the fence the pony immediately moved over so Harding could scratch her behind the ears. "I was recruited by Seeker Pentaghast and Sister Leliana sometime ago. Ended up getting into a pretty bad scuffle a while back against some bandits just as they were passing by. Next thing I knew all the bandits were dead and they were offering me a position amongst their ranks. Been working for them and the Inquisition ever since. And please my Lord Herald, I grew up in the Hinterlands, so you can stop all that stone children nonsense, never set foot in Orzammar."

Frowning slightly Mahanon let out a low sigh. This whole Herald thing wasn't just going to go away. "As you wish Scout Harding. But please, my name is Mahanon, not 'Herald'. And certainly not a 'Lord'."

Harding ceased her petting and shot him a quizzical look. "Well…you're not at all what I expected?"

Sticking his hand back through the fence he gently felt the coat of another horse that'd wandered near them. "Why? Because I'm an elf?"

Harding shook her head. "Nah, already knew that part. Besides I've known my share of elves, even a few dalish. Great people every one of 'em. Nah, just saying that given the dalish history with the humans, I'm just surprised that you're not using your new position to Lord over them. Think of it, when was the last time an elf got to order humans around? I mean – besides Alim Surana?"

Looking up he nodded towards the swirling green tear that loomed amongst the stars. "I'm only here to help seal that. And as tempting as 'Lording' over the shems sounds, we dalish are above such petty actions. We merely wish to live without interference." Feeling leather against fur Mahanon frowned at the bridle that was wrapped firmly over the horses head. "This is wrong."

"What? The Breach? The Mage-Templar war? Of course it's wrong. It's all wrong. It's almost like all of Thedas's problems decided to go tits over ass at the same time."

"No, not that." Mahanon chuckled lightly before giving a slight tug on the leather bridle. "This, this is wrong. He shouldn't be bound like this. He shouldn't be caged. But it's all he knows, so he accepts it. It's wrong."

Harding looked back and forth between him and the horse a few times before saying anything. "Don't you dalish use horse to pull those carriage things you have?"

"We have halla and we do not use them like slaves." Mahanon answered harshly before softening his tone. "Forgive me that was uncalled for. But we dalish would never subjugate our halla like so."

"Then how do you get where you need to go?" Harding asked seemingly genuinely interested.

"We ask them to take us." Mahanon answered simply. "Or we go where they wish. We do not force our will upon them. Such disrespect would anger Ghilan'nain, the Mother of the halla. They are our companions, not our servents."

"Sounds nice." Harding said, a small smile gracing her freckled face.

"It is."

For a while to two said nothing. Preferring instead to show affection to any of the horse that passed them by. "Well, Seeker Pentaghast will be coming down shortly." Harding said withdrawing her hand from between the posts in the fence. "Let's see if we can't find you a horse. It's not too terribly far to the Hinterlands from here, but a good horse will make the journey much easier."

"_Ma serannas_ Harding." On second thought, perhaps this whole working with the shems thing wouldn't be too bad. Provided there were more like Harding around.

* * *

**Thanks for reading everyone! Hope that you all enjoyed it! Please refer to the authors note above and let me know what you all think! And again, please please please review! See y'all in the next chapter!**


	6. The Hinterlands

**And we're back! Man…going on quite a bit of a roll here! A big thank you to everyone who added this story to their favorites or altered to this story! Thanks so much!**

**Also, big thank you to my reviewers for the last chapter! So thank you: Apollo Wings, edboy4926, zezia333, Legionary Prime, N7HadroreX, and Burgerinn.**

**Also, as to the poll from my last chapter about who to romance…here are the results!**

**Cassandra: 2**

**Josephine: 2**

**OC: 2**

**So…I'm leaving the polls open again. If you haven't voted please do so! Also if you feel like reviewing please do so! I love hearing what you guys think and your reviews really help to motivate me to get more chapters out faster!**

**Hope you all like the chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

When compared to the frozen rocky landscape that was Haven the rolling landscape that was the Hinterlands was almost idyllic in comparison. At the first sight of a proper tree, Mahanon had to resist the urge of climbing it. Creator's mercy, the last thing he needed was to act like a _da'len_ in front of nearly a dozen shems. And speaking of the shems…Mahanon had to grudgingly give those he was traveling with some respect. They were cordial and polite. Even the stone face woman Cassandra.

The _durgen'len_ scout Harding was the one he was most impressed with. If nothing else he had to give Cassandra and Leliana respect for correctly spotting her talent. For nearly the entirety of their five day journey she spent her time a fair distance ahead of the group. More than once she'd spotted bandits, or wild animals, and had guided them safely around. And now, five days after leaving Haven, she'd led them to a high ridge in the Hinterlands that overlooked the small settlement the shems had named the 'Crossroads'. And while the landscape was idyllic, the Crossroads were anything but.

From their high vantage point Mahanon watched alongside Harding, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas as the shem settlement burned. From what he could see there were two sides vying for control of the settlement. From the north were the mages, their staffs alight with magical energy as they flung fire balls and bolts of lightning towards their opposition. And from the south were the Templar's, their silver armor glistering in the sun like beacons. Stupid. They may as well have painted a target on themselves. But one thing that surprised Mahanon was that intermingled between both groups were soldiers who didn't seem to be affiliated with either side.

"Typical." Varric grunted hefting Bianca over his shoulder. "Mages and Templar's at it again. Not a care in Thedas for those who get caught in the middle."

Solas, standing stoically as usual, turned to Mahanon. "Your thoughts Lavellan?"

Resting his staff against his shoulder Mahanon began to lightly rub against the scared half of his face. Despite the fact that he'd been without bandages for several days now, it still itched like crazy. Not even the poultice his Keeper had taught him to help fight against itching and infection was helping. "I don't suppose we could just sit up here and let them kill each other?"

Cassandra turned on him sharply. Had she been a mage Mahanon was sure she would've roasted him alive for the comment. "There are innocent people down in the valley!" She hissed. "Do you intend to leave them to die?"

She was right of course. With his elven eye sight he could see a few random villagers running in and out of burning buildings trying to help others while doing their best to stay out of the fight. "And let's not forget that this Mother Giselle is somewhere down there as well." Solas added.

Mahanon wanted to smack his head against a tree. Preferably a heavy set tree. The first, and Creator willing only, time he goes looking for a priestess of the Chantry and she just happens to be caught in the middle of a battle between mages and Templar's. It was official, the Creators were having a very good laugh at his expense.

"Fine." Mahanon grumbled looking over the carnage below.

"How do you wish us to handle this Herald?" Cassandra asked sideling up alongside him.

She'd been doing that the entire trip, always deferring to him or asking his opinion. It was…strange. She was obviously skilled in combat and had experience. Not to mention she was one of the leaders of this whole Inquisition thing. So why she kept deferring to his opinion baffled him. "You're a Seeker right? Or at least you were."

"Yes." She answered curtly.

"And Seekers are basically Templar's right?"

"At one point, yes."

"Good." Mahanon pushing off his staff and backing away from the edge of the cliff. "Then take Solas and go after those mages to the north. I'll handle the Templar's to the south and Scout Harding and her men will flank those in the middle who are not Templar's or mages."

Harding immediately snapped a salute towards him before turning around and giving out orders to the shem's under her command. Cassandra however just looked at him quizzically. "There are at least ten if not more Templar's down there. How do you intend to-"

"Seeker, have you much experience fighting against your own kind?" Mahanon asked not letting her continue on her rant.

Cassandra's back straightened, her chin tilting upwards. "Of course not. They are my comrades despite recent de-"

"And seeing as how you have Templar capabilities I take it that you've fought against mages before then?"

"Yes of course. But –"

"Good. Then let's fight the enemy we know Seeker. Or do you doubt me and what I can do?"

Cassandra looked as if she wanted to argue more, but his last comment seemed to take the fight out of her slightly. "And how do you intend to take on nearly a dozen fully trained and battle hardened Templars? You are too valuable. If you die then –"

"If you're that worried Seeker, then I'll just have Varric accompany me."

Varric, who'd seemed perfectly content to just stay out of the argument, sputtered as he was suddenly drawn into the conversation. "Hey scar! Watch who you're volunteering for shit!"

Cassandra looked down towards Varric before looked up at him. "Fine. If you must insist on this…then we shall do things your way." And with that Cassandra turned tail and marched away from them towards the northern part of the Crossroads.

"I will see to it that she stays safe, Lavellan." Solas said bowing his head slightly. "How do you intend for us to coordinate this attack? You're plan has merit, however if we do not strike as one it will be for naught."

"I'll make it obvious." Mahanon said looking back down at the small battle raging below. "Just be ready to attack as soon as they separate."

"As you say Lavellan." Solas acknowledged before moving off after a storming Cassandra.

"Well Varric, shall we?" Mahanon said moving down the hill towards the southern end of the Crossroads.

"Shall we? Shit, I'm still trying to figure out how I got volunteered for this shit!"

* * *

Leaning around the tree Mahanon took careful stock of his opposition. The Templar's had dug themselves in and were currently trying to hold onto their position. The Templar's were fighting smartly, that much was for certain. Those with the thickest armor and the heaviest shields were pressing the attack against the mage forces while those in slightly lighter armor moved around them with swords and axes trying to get close enough so the mages wouldn't be able to use their magic effectively. And behind those two groups were the Templar archers who, thanks to the distraction of the heavier armored soldiers, were able to pick and choose their targets with ease.

"So what's the plan scar?" Varric whispered, Bianca's arms spread and ready to fire. "Move as quietly as possible and try to take out their archers before moving onto the bigger guys?"

"No." Mahanon said closing his eyes and centering his magic. "I'm going to get their attention and then rush them."

"Rush them?" Varric whispered harshly. "You got balls scar. Still not too sure on brains though."

Feeling his body warm as he embraced his magic he opened his eyes and took a few calming breaths. "Just make sure to catch any trying to get too close to me."

"Sure thing scar." Varric scoffed going down on one knee and taking aim at the Templar's backs. "I'll be sure to write you a nice eulogy while I'm at it as well."

Holding his left hand away from his person, Mahanon focused on gathering his magic into the palm of his hand. Within moments the very air around his hand began to waver before bursting into flames. Curling his fingers into the flames he stepped up and threw the magical ball of fire like a stone towards the grouping of Templars and mages.

As he had attacked from the rear flank of the Templar's none of them even saw the ball of fire until it was too late. The instant the ball of fire was directly over their heads Mahanon clenched his fist tightly, drawing on his magical connection to the flames to cause them to spread.

The mages, having seen the attack coming and more than likely assuming it had come from one of their own, retreated backwards separating themselves from the Templar's but unknowingly putting themselves right where Cassandra and Solas were waiting. The troops that were fighting in-between the mages and Templar's quickly scattered, most heading right for where the scouting party were lying in wait. Of the dozen or so Templar's in that were in the path of his attack most were able to move aside at the last moment and got away with only a few scorch marks on their armor. Two of the Templar's however were not as fortunate and Mahanon's flames encased them completely, their only saving grace was that Mahanon had poured enough energy into the flames so that their deaths were quick.

"Now that I've got your attention." Mahanon spoke loudly drawing the attention of the remaining Templar's who were quickly scrambling to their feet. "Let's have some fun."

Shifting his grip on his staff Mahanon did perhaps the last thing anyone would think a mage would do against a complement of Templars. He charged them head on.

His move was apparently so unexpected that none of the Templar's were even able to form a proper response until he had managed to close over half the distance between them. The first Templar to respond wore armor that'd been heavily decorated in feather's and fur. The decorated Templar raised his hand and pointed it palm out towards Mahanon.

Mahanon grunted as he felt the weight of the Templar's magical purging hit him head on. But where most mages would collapse and be a wreck after being on the receiving end of such an attack, Mahanon never even broke stride. A fact that stunned his opponents causing them to hesitate. And it was that brief hesitation that proved to be their undoing.

When he was only a few feet from the Templar who'd tried to purge him, Mahanon pushed off the ground hard, sending sailing him through the air towards the surprised Templar. Using his staff like a spear he thrust the bladed end at the man, catching the edge of his throat cutting open the man's neck.

Catching the rapidly dying Templar by the front of his armor Mahanon yanked him around placing the dying man between him and the Templar archers. The dying Templar stiffened as two loud 'thumbs' came from his back. The Templar archers apparently hadn't been able to stop their shots in time.

Letting go and stepping around his now dead human shield, Manhanon let loose two quick jolts of lighting from the end of his staff, each of which managed to catch one of the Templar archers right in the chest knocking them to the ground. Neither got back up.

Gripping his staff between both hands he turned, raising his staff above his head and blocking the downward strike of a Templar's sword. Pulling back with his right hand and pushing with his left, Mahanon knocked the sword aside as he brought the blunted end of his staff down hard across the Templar's helmet. Ignoring the womanly yell coming from within the helmet he back his staff up and thrust the heavy end of his staff into her gut, doubling her over before bringing his staff back up into front of the Templar's helmet throwing her backwards onto her back.

Feeling another purge crash into him, Mahanon spun again, this time going low and slashing out with his blade. The Templar that'd tried to purge him didn't react fast enough and ended up with Mahanon's staff slipping between his armored plates, slashing deeply into the flesh and bone of his knee. As the Templar cried out in pain Mahanon slapped his hand against his chest. With a quick push of his magic he let lose a small, but powerful, burst of lightning into the man's chest piece instantly stopping his heart.

Stepping aside, allowing the now dead Templar to fall pass him like a downed tree, Mahanon held his staff in front of him waiting for his next opponent. The three Templar's with the heavy shields apparently had more brains than their comrades as none of them charged him outright. But there was one thing those Templar's didn't know. And that was that he wasn't attacking alone. With two quick thuds, two of the Templar's were down with crossbow bolts still quivering in their necks.

With the sudden death of his two comrades the last Templar made the fatal mistake of taking his eyes off of Mahanon. Seizing the opportunity Mahanon froze the air surrounding his right hand before throwing it towards the Templar. The Templar just barely manage to get his shield up in time to prevent the ice spear from piercing his heart.

With the Templar now blinded by his shield, Mahanon had enough time to execute the complex series of movements and words that were required to perform the old magic.

Once the Templar lowered his shield enough so that he could see and in so doing he made his last mistake. Instead of retreating the fool decided to rush Mahanon. "Idiot." Mahanon muttered, finishing the last verse of his incantation and slamming the end of this staff into the ground. "It's already too late."

The ground around his staff responded instantly upon being pierced. Vines filled with thorns and tree saplings that'd yet to develop shot out from the ground. The thorn filled vines wrapped around the Templar's legs tripping him, while the harden tree saplings shot upwards impaling the falling Templar. He was dead before he could even utter a cry of alarm.

Hearing a low moan from behind him, Mahanon pulled his staff from the ground and backtracked through the field of dead bodies. The Templar woman who'd been on the receiving end of his blunted staff was crawling weakly through the underbrush, her arm stretching out for the hilt of a sword less than an arm's length away.

Using the blade of his staff he causally flicked at the sword, sending it far out of the Templar's reach. Using his foot he roughly kicked the down woman over onto her back before placing the same foot on her armored chest holding her in place. Using his staff he forced open her helmet's visor reveling her face to the world. Creator's mercy…she looked hardly old enough have left her parents embrace.

"Please…" She mumbled, as small bubble of blood escaping her lips, as the tip of his blade lowered to the base of her neck. "Me–mercy."

Tightening his grip on his staff Mahanon brought the tip of the blade down further so it kissed the skin of her neck. "And would you offer the same if our roles were reversed Templar?"

The woman didn't say anything. She merely closed her eyes as they began filling with unshed tears. "At least you're honest." Mahanon said, his grip tightening just the slightest bit more in preparation for the final blow.

"I gotta say scar, this crazy plan of yours actually worked! I'm impressed! And lookie here, you even managed to catch one of them alive. Nice going scar."

Keeping his staff a hair's breadth from the Templar's neck, Mahanon spied Varric approaching out of the corner of his eye. Even though his posture was casual, Mahanon could tell that Varric was ready to fire at _him_ should he do what he planned. '_We are not barbarians.'_ He thought to himself as he remembered his conversation with the Mythal in his dream.

Removing the tip of his staff from the woman's neck he called upon his old magic again. Vines leapt forth at his command, wrapping around her wrists before forcing them together in front of her. Once her hands where secure the vines broke off leaving her hands tied together. "You're Templar abilities are useless against them." Mahanon growled, roughly grabbing her by an arm and pulling her up to her feet. "So don't even bother trying."

"That's Keeper magic, am I right?" Varric asked as Mahanon pushed the Templar in front of him towards where Harding and her company was finishing up with any stragglers.

"Yes." Mahanon stated quickly trying to hide his surprise. "How did you know?"

Varric just shrugged. "Ah, you know that 'Daisy' I keep talking about? The one who ended up bagging Hawke? Interesting story about _that_ week I'll tell ya. But anyway. Daisy is, or at least was, a First to a dalish clan before she left them to join us."

Now Mahanon's interest was piqued. After listening to several of Varric's tales he just assumed that this 'Daisy' was a naïve flat-ear. But to learn that she was a First and that she left her clan? Such a thing was unheard of. Unless she was forced from her clan. But that would require doing something unthinkable.

Before he could ask Varric for further clarification they were in the heart of the small shem village. Harding and her soldiers had done their job well. Kneeling in the center of the village were at least eight or nine still armored shem's. All of the sheaths on their persons were empty and each had their arms above their heads. Figuring that it was as good as place as any, Mahanon kicked out the legs of the Templar, dropping her to the ground next to the line of prisoners. "How'd you do Harding?" He asked watching as cautious villagers began leaving their homes. Several of the more ambitious even began scavenging off the dead soldiers removing first their boots and then working on trying to find anything of value.

"We didn't lose a single man my Lord Her – I mean Mahanon." Harding said catching herself midway. "Several of the soldiers were part of a militia group from this village. A few of them went down with wounds, but no deaths have been reported yet."

Cassandra and Solas arrived in the village shortly after he did. Both of whom were escorting prisoners of their own. Solas's prisoner was human and was at least able to walk upright. The elf girl that Cassandra was escorting, or rather dragging, into the village was a sobering mess. As soon as Cassandra let go of her, the elf girl immediately curled up into a ball as she began crying loudly.

While Mahanon was trying hard not to sympathize, it was hard not to. The elf girl must've been mid-spell when she got hit by Cassandra's Templar purging. The sudden loss of one's magic, especially mid-spell, was often traumatic and without a doubt painful. A fact that Mahanon knew all too well having been on the receiving end of a Templar's ability more than once. "I take it things went well?" Mahanon asked as Solas, ever the peace keeper, calmly directed his prisoner to kneel with the others.

"Yes." Cassandra said shortly looking around the still smoldering village. "You're plan was…satisfactory."

"I think that's the closest I've ever heard her come to complementing someone scar." Varric laughed. "Enjoy your victory."

"Quiet dwarf." Cassandra seethed none too kindly. "The village however is still in disrepair and there are many wounded."

Creator's save him. Was she looking for his opinion again? Since when did he become the leader of this ragtag group that _she_ started? "Harding."

Harding was next to his side nearly instantly. "Yes sir?"

"See to the villagers." He breathed still trying to figure out how he got stuck making the decisions, again. "Help the wounded villagers as best you can. You, mage."

The human mage blinked rapidly at suddenly be called upon. "My name is Henrik."

"And I don't care." Mahanon answered drawing a short laugh from Varric. "Are you any good with healing?"

The human mage swallowed nervously but nodded none the less. "Yes."

"Good." Turning towards Cassandra he pointed towards the human mage. "Cassandra, take him around and see to it that he tries to repair the damage he's done. If he gives you any problems, or tries to use anything other than healing magic, kill him."

The mage paled considerably upon his proclamation. Apparently the mage thought that Mahanon would be on his side just because they were both mages. Cassandra seemed a little surprised too, but she managed to hide it a lot better. "As you wish." She said before grabbing the mage by the collar and forcibly leading him towards the makeshift place of healing that the villager's constructed the moment the fighting stopped.

"So what are we going to do with this lot scar?" Varric asked motioning with Bianca towards the kneeling prisoners. "You sent away all their guards. What are we going to do? Put 'em on the honor system?"

Closing his eyes and drawing on his magic Mahanon gently slid the tip of his blade into the ground. Just like before vines began rising from the ground, only this time without thorns. The prisoners all gave out cries of alarm and pleaded for their Maker to save them as the vines tightly wound themselves around them firmly securing them in place. Only the Templar woman kept her composure as the vines wound over her shoulders and legs. The elf mage was still lying on the ground sobering like a _da'len_, so he spared her from being bound like the others. In the shape she was in, she wouldn't even be able to light a candle with her magic for at least a day or two.

"Think that you can keep an eye on them now Varric?" Mahanon asked breathlessly. Creator's mercy, it had been a while since he'd had to push himself like this.

Kicking over a random crate, Varric sat down in front of the prisoners, Bianca resting comfortably across his knees. "Eh, I think I can handle them now scar. Now, who here has heard of my books? That's right, I'm _the _Varric Tethras. And you folks are in for a treat because we're going to sit here and discuss my upcoming novel."

Seeing that Varric had the situation well in hand, Mahanon motioned with his head for Solas to follow him. "Come on Solas, let's go see if we can't find this Chantry Priestess. Creator's mercy…never thought I'd be saying that."

* * *

After wandering the village for nearly an hour the two mages ended up at the makeshift house of healing that the villagers had constructed. Cassandra stood, stone faced as usual, watching carefully as the mage she'd captured worked at healing anyone who'd been harmed during the fight. Catching her eye, the Seeker nodded towards a woman garbed in Chantry robes who was kneeling next to a wounded soldier.

"Please…don't let…them t – touch me." The soldier gasp, fighting weakly against the hands of the Chantry Priestess who was trying to keep him still.

"Shh, this mage here can heal your wounds my child. Please, hold still."

The soldier eyed the mage wearily before shaking his head. "No…please Mother don't let them…their magic-"

"Can heal you child." The Mother reassured trying to keep the man calm. "It has been turned to a greater purposes. It is now no more evil than the blade you carry."

Despite her reassurances, the man still shook his head. "No – I can't…their magic is-"

Mahanon had enough. This type of reaction was so typical of the shem's. "Do you have a wife shem?" He asked causing both priestess and wound soldier to look up at him.

The soldier took one look at him, then his staff, and visibly tried to inch away. "I – I –"

"Do you have a _da'len? _A child?"

The soldier swallowed and nodded. "Yes…"

"Do you not wish to see them again?"

The soldier looked away from him, closing his eyes. "I –"

"Because your wound is fatal." Mahanon said emotionlessly. "There is no poultice, no bandage, and no prayer that will save your life now. The only hope you have is healing magic. But if you are such a coward that would you rather die, leaving your wife and child alone, than receive the touch of magic. Then he shouldn't even bother wasting his energy on you. There are others, far braver than you, who will see their families again because of his magic. I guess we'll just have to tell your wife and child you were too much of a coward."

Mahanon had taken one step away when the soldier cried out. "Wait! I'll…please…I'll take the healing."

The Chantry Priestess who'd been kneeling by the man's side stood up slowly, pausing only momentarily to pat the wounded man on the arm. "Rest easy my child."

Figuring this must be the woman they were after, seeing as how she was the only Chantry Priestess in sight, Mahanon decided that introductions were in order. "Are you Mother Giselle?"

The Mother bowed slightly to him, an act that both pleased and annoyed him, before motioning for the two of them to move away from the wounded. "I am." She said as they descended the steps away from the house of healing. "And you must be the one the people are calling the 'Herald of Andraste'."

"A title I neither claimed nor wanted." Mahanon answered trying to keep his annoyance from showing. "I'm told that you wanted to speak with me."

The Mother nodded. "I do. Even out here isolated as I am I have heard of the Chantry's denouncement of the Inquisition and I unfortunately know of those who are behind it. I will not lie to you, most are…grandstanding. Hoping to make a name for themselves so they will be in better position to claim the title of the next Divine. The others are simply afraid and following the example of those around them by agreeing."

Mahanon felt like rolling his eyes. It appeared as if not even a tear in the Veil itself was enough to stem the tide of human ambition, or idiocy. "And don't you support the view of your Chantry?"

Stopping Mother Giselle put her hands behind her back and stared off towards the dying sun. "Had I been in Val Royeaux I may have. But I have seen the horrors that the Breach has wrought. And just now I have seen your heroics. You must go to them child. You must convince them that you are not the monster they fear."

Closing his eyes Mahanon wasn't sure whether to laugh or bang his head against something hard. "You want me to go to Val Royeaux, the heart of the Chantry, and speak to the very people who want to execute me for some perceived crime. Are you sure you didn't hit your head during the fight woman?"

If he had offended her with his tone, she didn't show it. Creator's, this woman could give Cassandra lessons in how to remain stoic. "Not that I am aware of child. And yes, you do need to go and talk to them. But you have no reason to fear retribution from the Chantry. Despite what they might wish, you have allies now. And with your position and title amongst the Inquisition, you are allotted a certain degree of immunity under the rules of parley."

Squatting down Mahanon picked up a small twig. Holding the twig between his thumb and forefinger he let his magic slowly seep into the small piece of wood. Leafs started sprouting out from the once dead piece of wood. "Even if they don't kill me for this," Mahanon said showing her the newly revived branch. "I am still one of the dalish, a heathen. What makes you think anyone would even believe a word I would say?"

"I will say this Herald." Mother Giselle said after a moment of silence. "You do not need to convince them that you are right. All you need to do is make them doubt what they have heard about you. Their power comes from their unified voice. If you can make even a few doubt, you will take that power from them. And that will give you and your allies the time you need."

Tossing the now blooming twig aside Mahanon let out a low sigh as he watched the sun lower towards the horizon. This was not easy. If he was to close the Breach, he would need the help of the shem's. But in order to gain their help he would have to gain the support of their Chantry. The very idea of which left a foul taste in his mouth. "Fine." He breathed, shaking his head. "I'll go and talk to them."

Smiling Mother Giselle bowed slightly to him. "That is all I can ask, but not all I can offer."

"What do you mean?"

Grinning slyly the Mother nodded towards a banner the Inquisition troops were hanging. Mahanon already knew what the banner was, the shem's he was struck traveling with had taken them out several times during their trip here to go over the wording on them. "This village is now under the protection of the Inquisition." The Mother stated. "Even if it is an organization that is currently denounced by the Chantry, it will give those who seek to do harm pause. There is nothing I can do here now, but perhaps I can help your Inquisition."

Wonderful. Now he was going to be stuck traveling with a Chantry Mother. "We travel hard and fast woman. This is not the life for someone sheltered."

Instead of glaring at him, the Mother just started laughing outright. "And you believe that all those in the Chantry are sheltered? No child, many who now serve did so after living fairly colorful lives. Sister Leliana is one such example. As am I."

"Fine." Mahanon growled. "But you fall behind and you're on your own."

* * *

"I want to know how you did that Herald." Cassandra hissed angrily, grabbing his arm and forcibly pulling him away from the others so they could talk in private.

Deciding to play the 'innocent' card, Mahanon just shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
"Don't play dumb with me Mahanon." Now he knew he was in trouble. She never called him by his name. "You're not, so don't pretend to be. Even though we were on opposite sides of the village I was keeping half an eye on you. I saw as not one, but two Templar's tried and failed to purge you of your magic. Yet you kept fighting as is if their attacks meant nothing. How?"

Dropping the act Mahanon made sure they were alone before answering Cassandra. "Tell me Seeker, what happens when you use your Templar abilities against someone who is not a mage?"

Cassandra seemed confused by his question, but answered none the less. "Nothing. The abilities of a Templar only work against mages."

"Exactly." Mahanon said content to leave it at that, but upon seeing as how Cassandra still seemed confused he decided to continue. "You're Templar abilities work by forcibly breaking a mages concentration, which is needed to maintain their magic. What apparently you Templar's, and most mages form my experience, don't realize is that mages are almost constantly channeling their magic in one way or another. That's why the abilities of a Templar affect mages so well, even if they are not actively casting their magic. So let me ask you this Seeker, what would happen if a mage learned to stop channeling his magic completely, even for a brief moment."

Cassandra started blinking rapidly as the realization of what he was saying settled in. "They would be immune to the abilities of a Templar."

Giving her a cocky grin, Mahanon started clapping lightly. "Exactly."

Cassandra however seemed less than pleased by his revelation. "How did you learn to do this? And how many others have you told?"

"It is not something that can be easily taught Seeker. To ask a mage to stop channeling magic is a lot like asking one to stop breathing. So don't worry Seeker, your hounds of the Chantry will still be able to hunt and kill." Mahanon answered snidely. "As for how I learned it; trial, a lot of error, and three nearly fatal wounds. Courtesy of your Chantry hounds."

Cassandra blinked. "What?"

Sighing Mahanon shifted his weight onto his back foot. "Your Templar's hunt the dalish Seeker, don't even try to deny it." He added quickly as Cassandra opened her mouth, no doubt to refute his claim. "Just after receiving my vallaslin my clan received word that a nearby clan had been attacked and nearly decimated by the Templar's. Myself and several others of my clan decided that we'd had enough. The Templar's hunted us, so we started hunting them. And after being turned into a sobering mess like that flat-ear back there, I tried to figure out how the Templar abilities worked. I got lucky one day and discovered a method to stop channeling magic by pure accident. I've been using it ever since."

Cassandra looked completely flabbergasted, and Mahanon couldn't help but laugh at the look. No doubt she'd been brought up to believe that the Templar's were the ultimate weapon against a mage and that there was no defense to their power. And now he just poked a hole in what she thought she knew. By the Creator's, he loved seeing the look on shem's faces whenever he was able to shatter their preconceived notions of superiority. "There – there is a horse master here in the Hinterlands." She said, quickly adapting her stone faced look again. "We should seek him out before we leave."

Taking a few deep breaths he managed to get his laughter under control. "Why? Doesn't this Inquisition of yours already have a herd master?"

Cassandra's jaw hardened. "We have several stable hands, but no true horse master. Master Dennet, who lives here in the Hinterlands, is regarded as having one of the finest herds in Ferelden. If we can gain his support it would be a major victory for the Inquisition."

Mahanon was still trying to get his head around the fact that this Inquisition had no herd master. How could anyone have mounts and no herd master? Such a thing was unheard of amongst the dalish. Yet more proof of just how backwards these shems were. "Alright. Lead me to this herd master. Let's see what his price will be."

* * *

"It's just over this hill." Mahanon said, wincing slightly as his left hand pulsed again, little wisps of green smoke drifting out from his skin.

It had taken them a little over an hour at best to find the homestead of the horse master. And after speaking with the horse master…Mahanon was forced to give a grudging respect to the shem. He treated his horses as well as any dalish herd master. His fences were only there to keep the horses within a sight, giving them plenty of room to roam free. But what also surprised him was the shems willingness to cooperate. Mahanon had barely gotten two words out of his mouth before the man said that he would aid the Inquisition by supplying them with horses. Of course the horse master had a stipulation, but even that was acceptable. All the horse master wanted was for them to seal a Rift that'd sprung up near his herd. And that stipulation came about only out of the master's concerned for his horses and his farm hands.

"Yeah, you said that about the last hill scar." Varric huffed, breathing heavily. "I'm not cut out for this long distance stuff. Dwarves are natural sprinters, we don't do long distances."

Scout Harding, who wasn't even breathing hard, fixed Varric with an amused glance. "I'm a dwarf Varric. And I'm doing just fine. Perhaps it's just your ale gut that's slowing you down."

"Hey! I'll have you know little Miss Harding that – ouch! Watch where your stopping scar!"

But Mahanon wasn't listening to Varric. They'd crested the hill and right at the base of the hill was the Rift. And while still terrifying, it wasn't what made him freeze. Less than a few dozen yards away from the Rift was a lone elf woman, fighting like a woman possessed against a seemingly endless onslaught of shade and sylvan demons. The elf's staff was spinning in wide circles sending out small balls of ice trying to keep the demons at bay. But it was when she pointed her staff towards a nearby tree, which immediately responded by snatching up one of the demons, that he reacted. That was old magic…dalish magic.

Ignoring the calls of alarm coming from behind him, Mahanon charged head long down the hill towards the elf. The first demon he came across, a lowly shade, didn't even have time to react to his presence as it was engulfed in magical flames reducing it to nothing. The next demon in his path, a sylvan, actually managed to turn towards him and raise one of its claws before Mahanon froze it solid.

The next thing he knew the air around him grew hot…far too hot for this time of year. Liquid fire was pouring out of the Rift, pooling on the ground and burning anything and everything in its path. Mahanon was helpless to do anything but watch in fascination, and horror, as the liquid fire began forming up on itself and taking shape. Once fully formed the rage demon let loose an ear piercing roar, spewing fire from its maw, before slithering towards him faster than any creature that size had the right too.

Rolling out of the path of the flaming demon, Mahanon threw the strongest ice spell he could muster the instant he'd regained his footing. The ice stuck the demon's flank…and melted instantly. Readying another spell he gritted his teeth…and went face first into the dirt.

A sylvan demon had somehow managed to get behind him, tripping him, and was now brining its claws to bare. Before they could reach him they were clashed hard against a shield. With a yell Cassandra pushed back against the demon, putting it off balance before running it through with her blade.

"The Rift Mahanon!" Solas shouted running past him and throwing his own ice spell at the rage demon. "Close the Rift! We'll hold them at bay!"

All around him the human soldiers of the Inquisition began assaulting the demon horde, separating him from the demons and leaving him with an unobstructed to the Rift.

Taking advantage of the opening, Mahanon turned to the Rift, pooling his magic into his mark. Green lightning flashed, connecting his mark to the Rift. Fighting against the pain in his hand, he poured more and more of his magic into the Rift, shrinking the tear with each pulse. Demonic cries echoed throughout the valley as green light shot forth from the dying Rift, grabbing hold of each demon and dragging them back into the Fade. Loudest of all was the rage demon. The living flame clawed at the ground leaving trails of fire as it was forcibly pulled back into the Fade.

"Complain all you want demon." Mahanon grunted through gritted teeth. "But you're going back!" And with one last push the living flame was force back into the Rift just as it closed in on itself with an audible crack.

"Well that worked." Mahanon muttered shaking his left hand in an attempt to ease the stinging. "Now wh-"

A steel clad fist ended what he'd been about to say and put him flat on his back. Standing above looking more pissed off than he'd ever seen her complete him with his blood spattered across her gauntlet fist was Cassandra. "What were you thinking?" The Seeker demanded, grabbing him by the collar of his robe and forcing him to stand. "Acting so brazenly puts yourself and rest of us in danger. And I will not stand for it!"

Pinching his nose in an attempt to stem the tide of blood he shrugged off her hand. "I didn't ask any of you to follow me."

Cassandra's glare didn't lessen, if anything it only intensified. Reaching out she roughly grabbed hold of his left arm just above his wrist. "Yet we follow you anyway. Maker help us. You are the only one who can seal the Rifts and the Breach and-"

"So that's all I am to you then?" He asked, yanking his arm from her grasp. "A tool to be used? Typical shem."

Cassandra looked as if she was ready to run him through then and there. For that matter everyone, even Solas and Varric, looked like they wanted to do him in. "You're a fool." Cassandra hissed before turning and looking around the clearing. "Now where is that elf you whe-"

"Mahanon?" A soft voice called out as an elf emerged from the brush. "Mahanon Lavellan? Is that…is that you?"

Mahanon couldn't believe his ears. His heart started beating widely as he turned towards the elf he'd seen before. The instant he laid eyes upon her everything else faded into the background. There was only her and him. And she was exactly as he remembered. Of course remembering her wasn't a problem as she had been plaguing and blessing his dreams every night for over a year. Her sea green eyes staring up at him widely. Her dull silver hair pulled back like his own. Her vallaslin carefully framing her delicate face. "Mihris?" He breathed taking a step towards her. "Mihris…is that you?"

Next he knew the smaller elf had barreled into his chest nearly knocking the two of them over. "Mythal's blessing! It really is you Mahanon! By Mythal! What happened to your face?"

"Hey scar…wanna introduce us to your lady friend there? Or are you just going to let us stand here shifting awkwardly."

Mihris nearly jumped away from him, her face turning red as she looked around the at the assembled shem's who were staring at them. For his part, Mahanon was sure that he could feel the tips of his ears turning red. "This is Mihris, First of Clan Thelhen. We grew up together before she was sent to Clan Thelhen to become their Second. She's uh…well…"

"He's my…well we umm…you see there was this one, no two…no three nights were…umm." Mihris stuttered looking around shyly, especially towards the woman he was stuck traveling with.

The shem's seemed completely stunned by her revelation. They all just kept looking from him to her and then back again. "What?" Mahanon asked stepping over towards Mihris. "Is it so hard to imagine that I had a life before all this shit started?"

Varric threw up his hands in surrender. "Not saying anything scar. Just uh…surprising you got a lady friend is and – I think I'm just gonna shut up now. No sense in digging myself even deeper."

Harding and the other shem's shared in Varric's greeting, however there were two notable exceptions. Cassandra' greeting was curt and hardly friendly. And Solas…well the older elf seemed almost weary of her for some reason. "It's really good to see you Mihris." Mahanon said once all the introductions were done. "But, what are you doing out here by yourself?"

Mihris face fell for a moment before brightening once more. "Oh, I'm not alone." She said before placing two fingers in-between her lips and letting out a loud, long, whistle.

Mahanon's heart sped even faster as a low whine answered her call. Within moments a large fully grown stag could be seen galloping towards them. "Elgar'nan..." Mahanon whispered as he watched the stag come ever closer. "Is that…?"

"Of course silly." Mihris laughed swatting at his shoulder. "We found him and raised him from a colt. You didn't think I'd just up and leave him behind."

Separating himself from the others, Mahanon held his hand out waiting for the stag to come to him. For his part, the stag took one look at him started prancing around excitedly. "It's good to see you too Elgar." He whispered scratching the stag across the snot and up to the base of its impressive antlers. "It's been far too long my friend."

For the first time in several months, things were actually starting to look up for Mahanon.

* * *

**So I'm gonna be completely honest here…I didn't read ****The Masked Empire****, so I had no idea of Mihris back story when I played this game. And I had already had her part in Mages Three figured out before I learned about her backstory. So for the sake of this story…I'm gonna kinda ignore her part in ****The Masked Empire****. Please don't get mad!**

**And as always…please review!**


	7. Fractured

**First of all I gotta say I'm ecstatic with the replies from the last chapter! You all certainly made your choice loud and clear! So a big thank you to all of you who reviewed! **

**Thank you: Grief, ARavingLoony, HunnyHoney, Apollo Wings, Archonei, Legionary Prime, Inquisitor1994, ethereal-23, and zezia333. I hope to hear more from you all in the future! I love hearing what you all think! Its great motivation!**

**I also apologize for the wait for this chapter. It was pretty much done nearly a week ago, but life has been so hectic I haven't been able to really sit down and finish it until lately. Also, unfortunately, this will be the last update until after the Holidays. I might be able to sneak one more chapter in between Christmas and New Years…but it'll be tight.**

**Also a big thank you to all of you who've added this story to your favorites or altered to it!**

**Lastly a quick warning, this chapter is a little faster pace than normal, but I wanted to cover a bit of ground. Also this chapter does have a slightly adult part to it, but I tried to keep it tasteful. Please let me know what y'all think of it!**

**Well, I hope that you all enjoy this chapter! And please leave a review if I was able to strike a cord with this chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Sitting next to the low burning fire at night Mahanon was feeling better than he had since…well…since the last Arlathvehn less than a year ago. His reason for his joyous mood wasn't the fact that the human horse master had sent more horses with them, with an agreement to personally join the inquisition once watch towers had been built. And it certainly didn't have anything to do with the fact that he was now being forced to travel with a Mother from the Chanty. No, the reason for his joyous mood was the small elven woman that was currently sitting next to him and leaning up against him.

But while Mahanon couldn't have been happier with the arrival of Mihris, the shem's he was traveling with didn't appear to have the same sentiment. Cassandra, Giselle, the shem's amongst the scouting part, Creator's even Solas was shooting her weary glances. The only person who seemed even the slightest bit accepting of Mihris presence was Varric. Although that acceptance might've been because of just how attentive an audience she was to the _durgen'len's_ stories.

"-and then the two just march right up to Hawke's bedroom, ignoring Orana all the while, and throw open the door. Aveline got one word out before turning redder than her hair and turning heel. And Isabella…all she does is say 'we'll talk later'. Right after she yells 'ride 'em like a halla kitten!'."

Mihris started laughing against his side, which made Mahanon laugh. Creator's mercy, how he'd missed the sound of her laughter.

"So tell us Mihris, how is that you've come so far alone without your clan?"

Feeling Mihris tense in reaction to Cassandra's question, Mahanon sent a glare towards the Seeker. Even though he wanted to know that as well…he figured it was a sensitive subject and that she would talk about it when she was ready.

"My…my clan is gone." Mihris stated ending all conversation in the camp.

"What?" Mahanon couldn't believe it. Mihris clan wasn't the largest dalish clan out there, but it was still fairly large. To lose that many of the people…someone would pay. "How?"

Feeling Mihris pressed herself harder against him, Mahanon reciprocated by tightening his hold on her. "The Templars." With that single word Mahanon shot another withering glare across the fire. Cassandra looked non-repulsed, but at least the Chantry Mother had the decency to look slightly ashamed. "We stayed in one place for too long. The Templar's found us. Only this time they made no demands of our clan…they simply attacked. And they didn't care who stood in their way. The Keeper he…he…he summoned a demon to try and fight against them. Well it worked only, once the Templar's were dead, the demon turned on the few of us who remained."

No one said anything as Mihris broke down into silent tears. What was there to say? Both sides of the current conflict were at fault for her suffering. The Templar's for attacking and her Keeper for retaliating with a demon. There was no right and wrong side in her story. Both were in the wrong. And it was her clan who suffered for it.

"Right, well if we're all done drudging up painful memories, I think I'm going try and get a few hours of shut eye." Varric announced theatrically stretching as he hefted Bianca over his shoulder and shooting the Seeker a meaningful glare. "Someone wake me when it's my turn for watch."

"I believe Varric has the right idea of it." Mother Giselle announce standing. "It has been a long day, for all of us. And we are all due for some much needed rest. Mihris, child, there is a tent for us ladies over here if you wish."

Mihris made no move to remove herself from his arms. "I – I think I'd like to say with Mahanon…for a little while."

The Mother didn't press the matter, merely nodded her acceptance. "As you wish child. Just know that there is a bed waiting for you whenever you wish to make use of it."

"I'll take first watch." Cassandra announced loudly, rising to her feet and throwing her shield onto her back. "If it means anything Mihris…I'm sorry for what happened to your clan."

Solas was the next to stand. "_Ir abelas _Mihris." The elder elf said bowing slightly, but instead of heading towards the tent he shared with Mahanon, the elf headed for the tree line around the camp. "I shall take my rest beneath the stars tonight."

Within minutes the entire camp had either gone to bed or left for watch leaving Mahanon and Mihris suddenly alone. For the first time in a long time, Mahanon felt anxious. He wasn't quite sure what to do with Mihris. Well, that wasn't entirely truthful. He knew what he _wanted_ to do with her. But he wasn't sure what he was _supposed_ to do.

"Can we go in your tent _lethallin?_" Mihris asked suddenly, disentangling herself from his arm and standing. "I…its quite cold out here."

Nodding he quickly got to his feet and took her hand in his. Holding open the tent flap for her, he cast once last look around the camp making sure there were no prying eyes before ducking in behind her.

The inside of the tent was pretty sparse, as the only items Mahanon and Solas bothered to gather before leaving Haven were their bed rolls, a few blankets, and their traveling packs. Mahanon coughed slightly as he noticed just how close Solas had set up the two mats. Apparently the elder elf wasn't quite as dense as Mahanon had originally thought.

"Is it alright if we sit a moment _lethallin?"_ Mihris asked, not waiting for an answer before sitting down cross legged on his bed roll.

Picking up one of the blankets he carefully wrapped it around her slim shoulders before moving over to the candles and using a small amount of magic ignited both. Wrapping another blanket around his own shoulders he sat down next to her. For some time the two said nothing as they simply basked in each other's presence. "Are you going to be okay Mihris?" Mahanon asked taking her hand in his.

Mihris didn't answer, she merely stared ahead at the dancing flame on top of the candle. "Mahanon…do you remember…at the Arlathvehn when…"

Giving her hand a squeeze Mahanon couldn't help but smile slightly. He definitely remembered the last time they were together. They were only able to escape the watchful eyes of their respective Keepers for an hour, but they definitely made the most of the limited time. The images of her above him, below him, and beside him in the throes of pleasure were firmly engrained in his mind. "I could never forget Mihris. And I meant what I said back then. You are my home. Whether we are with our clans or not, as long as I am with you, I'm home."

Mihris gave him a weak smile, sniffled, and then started crying freely. "Mihris!" He cried, moving around so that he was now kneeling before her. "Mihris, what's wrong?"

His question just made her starting crying all the more. Creator's mercy, what did he say? "Mahanon…" she sniffed, palming away at her eyes. "I-I…I don't know if…if…I need to tell you I-I-"

"Shh," he cooed placing a finger against her lips. "Whatever's wrong Mihris, you don't need to tell me now. Whatever it is, whenever you're ready to talk I'll be here."

Mihris smiled, unshed tears making her eyes shine in the candle light. "Mahanon, can you…can you hold me?"

Moving forward he wrapped his arms around her petite shoulders holding her close to his chest and placing a light kiss next to her ear. "Always, _ma vhenana."_

Her breath hitched at the endearment. Pulling back from him slightly her eyes frantically searched his face. In that moment for the first time in his life Mahanon lowered all his defenses and let someone see him. Not the hardened shem hating elf or the First of Clan Lavellan. He let Mihris see him.

One of her lithe hands began gently tracing the vallaslin around his eyes before carefully tracing the thick scars on face making him shutter at the contact. Leaving the scar her hand traveled along his jaw and into his hair. Her fingers tightening just shy of painfully in his hair before pulling him forward the so their lips could meet. Her lips tasted like honey and flowers…exactly like he remembered.

He tried for a simple chaste kiss, he honestly did. But the moment he tried to move back her lithe arms wrapped around his neck forcing him back down. Creator's mercy…when did she become so strong? Soon all conscious thought was leaving him as their hands became a flurry of movement, tearing at one anthers clothes. In dying candle light Mahanon was treated to the sight of his love lying bare before him. Gently caressing her sides he lost himself in feeling that was her. "I love you, _ma vhenan."_

Her answered had no words and needed none.

* * *

Waking was an extremely slow process for Mahanon on even the best of days. But this morning, Mahanon fought harder than normal against the pull of consciousness. Images of the night prior, of Mihris gasping in pleasure as he worshiped every one of her curves, danced along the edge of his mind keeping him firmly in the grip of the Fade.

Still only semiconscious he reached out blindly for where he knew Mihris to be lying. Only to feel nothing. Blinking the last remnants of sleep from his eyes he felt around their bed roll, confused to find that he was its only occupant. The blankets next to him were still slightly warmed and had obviously been used. So last night hadn't been just a pleasant dream. But then…where was Mihris?

Quickly finding his clothes he dressed himself before hurrying out into the dim morning light. The only two others currently even awake were Varric and Solas, both of whom were sitting next to a low burning fire. "Hey scar," Varric said tossing him a larger piece of bread. "So, did your lady friend finish you off or bring you back to life?"

Ignoring the joking jab, Mahanon tore small bits of the bread off with his teeth all the while looking around the camp trying to find some trace of Mihris. '_Perhaps she went out hunting.'_ He reasoned not finding any trace of her. '_But she was never really all that eager to hunt. When we were da'lens I was the one who had to force her to go out. She must've gone to the woman's tent with Cassandra, Harding and Mother Giselle.'_

For a second he contemplated sticking his head into said tent, but the thought of Cassandra stopped him in his tracks. That was definitely one shem woman he did not want to get on the wrong side of. At least no more so than he apparently already was.

Figuring he had nothing better to do than wait for the women to wake up, he took a seat next to Solas and Varric next to the fire. "You seem troubled Mahanon." Solas observed, gently placing another log on the fire. "Is something the matter?"

Mahanon wasn't sure what to tell him. Yes he was troubled. But the reasoning behind it was more than a little personal. He and Mihris spent the night together, but when he woke she was gone. How did one go about explaining that situation? To anyone. Let alone someone he'd only known for a whole two weeks at best.

He was saved from answering as an urgent and fearful cry echoed throughout the camp. His staff spinning into his hands Mahanon turned, ready to engage whatever it was, only to see Elgar standing at the edge of the camp. Once the stag saw that it had his attention it began crying loudly and pawing at the dirt.

"What's wrong Elgar?" Mahanon asked, raising his hands and cautiously approaching the frantic stag. He'd never seen Elgar this way before unless…oh no.

"Elgar…where's Mihris?"

At the sound of her name Elgar started prancing around widely before running a few paces out of camp, stopping, turning back towards him and letting out a long cry. Mahanon didn't need to be told twice. Ignoring the alarmed calls of Solas and Varric he bolted across the small intervening space, before using a slight push with his magic to vault him into the air and onto the stag's back. "Run _falon'lin."_ He whispered into the stag's ear.

Giving off a loud cry and rising up onto his hind legs, Elgar bolted out of the shem camp faster than any horse could possibly follow.

* * *

Mahanon had set a demanding astride Elgar, but he knew that the stag could handle it. He'd raised him from a colt after all. The sun was had just barely reached midday when the two came upon a small outcropping in the mountains of the Hinterlands when Elgar whined loudly, rearing back on his rear legs and nearly causing Mahanon to fall off the back of the stag. "Easy _falon'lin."_ Mahanon whispered petting the side of the stag's neck.

Looking around to see what had spooked his old friend so badly, he found himself staring right at a cave entrance that'd been nearly completely obscured by vines. If it hadn't been for Elgar leading him directly too its entrance, he would've never been able to find it. "Is this where she went Elgar?" Mahanon asked stroking his fur, to which Elgar answered by nodding its head several times.

Lifting his right leg over, Mahanon slid gracefully off of the stags back. Walking forward towards the cave entrance he placed a hand on Elgar's snot. "Stay here _falon'lin_. I'll bring her back."

Despite his urgency, he wasn't stupid. Taking his time he carefully moved about the entrance way looking for any sign of tampering or taps. Finding none he reached back to take his staff in hand. "Mahanon! Wait!"

Turning Mahanon was surprised by what sight greeted him. Behind him, riding two very exhausted horses, were Cassandra, Varric, Solas, and Harding. Varric and Harding, having been holding onto the waists of Solas and Cassandra respectfully, slid off the horses first. Truthfully Mahanon was surprised that they'd even managed to stay this close with him. Not many horses could keep up with Elgar, let alone carrying two passengers. Reaching behind him Mahanon stealthily gripped his staff. "Don't try and stop me. She's just in there."

Solas was the only one to approach him, the elder elf keeping his hands up in a nonthreatening manner. "We're not here to stop you Mahanon. But have you stopped to think about all of this? Or better still, have you stopped to _feel_ this area?"

Frowning Mahanon reached out with his magic…and nearly gagged. This whole area felt coated in a heavy demonic aura. How could he have missed such a thing?

Lowering his hands, Solas took several tentative steps towards him. "You feel it, don't you Mahanon? You can feel the aura surrounding this place."

Not trusting himself to speak Mahanon merely nodded. This whole place felt wrong, heavy. Like a constant weight pressing against his chest. "We're not here to stop you scar." Varric added. "We're just here to make sure you and your lady friend make it back in one piece. Safety in numbers all and that shit right?"

"Fine." Mahanon said not wanting to waste any more time. "But stay behind me and don't do anything rash!"

The entrance to the cave was covered in a thick layer of dust and rubble. The only indication of life was a single set of tracks leading into the cave. Kneeling down he gently traced the tracks with a finger. They looked as if they belonged to someone of Mihris size. But…why was she running? There were not tracks behind her. And no sign of a struggle.

Spotting an unlit torch hanging on the wall Mahanon channeled a small amount of magic and set it aflame. Green flame erupted from tip of the torch, illuminating the darkness of the cave with a soft green glow.

"That's Veilfire." Solas announced, sounding more shocked than anything.

"And that means what baldy?" Varric asked looking around nervously. "Remember, not all of us are mages here."

"It means that these ruins do indeed belong to the elves of old." Solas answered. "Veilfire is unlike any other fire. As it is powered by magic it will never go out until the one who casts it ends the spell. Even if you were to place the torch underwater it would still burn brightly. _Enasal._"

Taking the torch out of its holder and holding the green light before him, Mahanon made his way down into the ruins. With each step they took into the ruins the demonic aura he'd felt outside grew. Something was wrong here…very wrong. As the aura was reaching the level of suffocation, the tunnel opened up into a wide cavern. And there, kneeling in the center of the large chamber was a single hooded figure. "Ah, Mahanon. So you've come."

Even though her voice was deeper than usual, there was no mistaking it. It was Mihris. But before he could take a step towards her, he found himself unable to move. Beside him Solas gave him an apologetic look as the glowing green light in his hand died. He'd used a stasis spell on him. "I'm sorry Mahanon." Solas said sadly. "But that is no longer the Mihris that you loved."

Cassandra, Varric, and Harding all came up alongside Solas, effectively forming a wall between him and Mihris.

A low deep rumbling laugh came from the kneeling figure before them stopping everyone in their tracks. "Aw, now why did you have to go and do that?" The figure with Mihris's voice asked standing and turning towards them. "I wanted to have some more fun with him."

As the hood covering the figure's face lowered Mahanon felt all his strength leave him. Had it not been for Solas's spell…he would've collapsed. It was Mihris…yet it wasn't. Her once elegant vallaslin that he loved had been corrupted. Instead of their normal dark brown coloring, the vallaslin around her face was a deep purple that flowed around like water. Her once delicate eyebrows were gone, replaced by purple stones that jutted out form her face. And her eyes, dear Creator's her eyes. No longer were they the sea green that could gaze into for hours on end. Now they were dark yellow and full of malice. She was no longer Mihris…she was an _era'harel._

"What's the matter Mahanon?" The demon, he could not think of her as Mihris, taunted. "Don't you find me attractive anymore? Don't you want to lay with me again?"

"How?" Mahanon breathed, trying desperately to understand. "You – she wasn't like this last night! There was no demonic energy in her! She-she would've never made a deal with a demon in the first place!"

The demon laughed. "Oh, you would know what was _in_ her last night wouldn't you?"

Mahanon tried in vain to fight against the spell that was holding him in place. "How _len'alas?!_ How did you take her?"

"It doesn't matter Mahanon." Solas said stepping before him, his staff alight with magical energy. "All that matters now is that she is no longer the Mihris you once knew."

The demon narrowed her eyes at Solas. "Ah, the walker. I must say I am surprised, and disappointed, that you didn't discover my presence sooner. I was sure that as soon as you laid eyes upon this girl that you would spot me. I guess she did a better job sealing me away than even _I_ thought possible."

In the next instant several things happened at once. Bianca snapped loudly as Varric fired a bolt, Cassandra and Harding both let out war cries as they charged with shields raised and Solas brought his staff forward letting lose a volley of ice towards the demon. The demon though seemed completely unfazed by the sudden onslaught and as he was still trapped in Solas's stasis spell, Mahanon was powerless to do anything but watch.

The demon lazily swatted away Varric's arrow before sending out a wave of fire melting Solas's ice. Harding was hit with a wave of magic energy sending her spiraling backwards right into Varric. The fireball that'd melted Solas's ice continued on towards the mage, forcing him to create a barrier. But the force of the attack was still enough to send him clear across the chamber. Cassandra at least made it to within arm's reach of the demon. But her blade never reached its flesh. After swatting her blade away with its bare hand, the demon lashed out and caught the Seeker by the throat.

"That wasn't very nice." The demon said, lifting Cassandra up off the floor. "I was trying to talk. So stay out!"

With a cry Cassandra flew out of the demon's hand and into the depths of the cave. From where he was trapped he couldn't see where she landed, but judging by the loud crashing of metal on stone the Seeker was going to need healing and soon.

Clapping the dust off her hands the demon turned its attention back on him. "Now then, lover. Where were we? Oh yes, you were wondering how I took control of your little bitch. Well you see, this little bitch embarrassed me some time ago."

Pausing, the demon waved her hand creating a throne like seat out of the rumble in the ruins before Mahanon. Taking her time the demon carefully rearranged her robes before taking a seat before him. "You see, we demons grow extremely bored in the Fade. And with how resilient most of your kind has become, it is rare for us to find one that we can use. But I found one. A perfect pathetic little man who dreamt of greatness. Well I gave him what he wanted. But before he could make good on his end of our bargain this little bitch comes along and kills him! Naturally I couldn't allow such a setback go unpunished. So I hounded this little bitch from the Fade trying to find her weakness. I even went as far as to approach her disguised as Valor, disgusting as it was, to try and gain her trust. Nothing worked! It was so infuriating!"

Pausing again the demon crossed her legs and placed her hands on her knees delicately. "And then came my break. Once the Templar's started slaughtering her clan she came to me on her hands and knees begging for Valor's help. So…I gave it to her."

Mahanon felt like he was going to be sick. "It…it wasn't her Keeper that summoned the demon…"

"No!" The demon laughed. "It was your love! Oh, she did try and fight me once she realized what I was. But by then it was too late. Oh, listening to her cries of agony and pleas for mercy as I cut down the members of her clan one after another…oh it was better than sex! But just as I was really starting to enjoy myself, the little bitch called upon some old magic and sealed me away within her! I was powerless to do anything as she told the rest of her clan to get away from her!"

Mahanon felt a pride swell within his chest at what his love had accomplished. She had bested a demon, and a powerful one at that, twice. "Hahahaha! She bested you twice!"

Mahanon felt red hot pain as the demon lashed out. Her hand shattering the stasis spell he was locked in as it connected with the side of his head. "Quiet you fool!" The demon hissed delivering a kick to his chest. "She did not best me! I allowed myself to be sealed within her to play with her."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night _len'alas."_

After delivering another kick to his chest the demon resumed her seat. While he was still trying to regain his breath, he felt something pull on him, forcing him back towards the demon. When the pulling stopped he felt the demon rest the bottoms of her feet on his back.

"Now, as I was saying. I _allowed_ myself to be sealed to give her a false sense of victory. But instead of rejoicing, she began reading! It was sooo boring! But soon enough I figured out what she was trying to do. She was trying to figure out a way to get rid of me. Eventually she stumbled across some book that referenced these artifacts that measured the strength of the Veil. Her plan was to find a weak spot and force me back. Her plan changed however when she stumbled upon one of the Rifts. She decided that ejecting me would take too long, and decided instead to just…throw herself into the Rift. Oh, I must thank you by the way. Had it not been for your intervention, she would've succeed."

Mahanon felt a new pain, outside of the physical, swell within his chest. Mihris was…trying to kill herself?

Ignoring his pain, or perhaps because of it, the demon pressed on. "With her plan temporarily spoiled I sought a way to break through her seal. And as it so happened, it is thanks to you, the object of her desire, that I was able to do so. You see, during your coupling her concentration slipped. And I was able to worm my way out of her barrier and slowly erode it while she slept. Of course then she had to go and wake up before I was finished. But instead of waking you, the dumb bitch goes and runs off in a pathetic attempt at keeping you safe."

Using what little strength he had, Mahanon rolled out from under the demon's feet and sent a bolt of lightning at it. Moving far faster than anything he'd ever seen, the demon ducked out of the way of his spell, dove forward, grabbed him by the neck, and forced him onto his back with her straddling him.

"Umm, now this bring back memories." The demon cooed rolling its hips against his.

"_Art u na'din!"_

The demon's grip on his throat tightened in response to his threat, cutting off his air. "Now that wasn't very nice." Keeping a firm grip on his throat the demon got off of his lap, and lifted him up till his toes could no longer touch the ground. "You know…it's funny. You mortals spend so much time trying to find the best ways to inflict pain upon on one another and the answer is so simple. Physical pain can be endured…but watching the ones you love suffer is what truly brings you mortal's pain."

Mahanon tried fighting back, punching the demon's arm or trying to kick it, but he may as well have been fighting against a stone statue for all the good it was doing. "Enough of that." The demon sighed shaking him and tightening its grip on his throat. "So with that in mind, I'm going to…what's the human phrase? 'Kill two birds with one stone'? Yes that's it. You mocked me, which is reason enough for you to suffer, but while you flail around and scream, I'm going to make Mihris watch. And – oh…if you could hear her now…she is screaming in my mind. Lovely…but not enough. So do me a favor will you Mahanon? Scream for me."

As the demon's grip tightened even further cutting off his air completely and blackening his sight, he felt its foul magic begin to creep around the barriers of his mind. He fought, Creator's help him he fought against it. But with his vision rapidly darkening he was next to powerless against the demon. Just before he lost consciousness the demon struck. Every pain, ever fear, every nightmare, every negative thought or emotion within him assaulted him at once. Screaming in agony Mahanon's tried in vain to break the demons hold on him.

"That's right Mahanon." The demon cooed. "Scream. It makes her suffering all the more…euphoric."

Mahanon could feel himself slipping as his eyes darkened. This…this couldn't be the end. He had to…had to fight…had to help Mihris.

Without warning the demon's hand left his throat, leaving him in a heap on the floor as its spell died. "Ouch! You little half pint fuck! I'll kill you for that!"

Gasping desperately for air, Mahanon tried to focus his eyes. The demon was still standing above him, but now it had half a crossbow bolt sticking out from her chest. "You little dwarf shit!" The demon cursed reaching up and roughly ripping the arrow out, raining little droplets of blood onto Mahanon. "You'll pay for that!"

Lashing out with what little magic he could muster, Mahanon threw the demon away of him. "You fuck!" The demon yelled rolling across the ground and coming to a stop on all fours. "I will make you suff-"

Mahanon's instincts took over as he rolled over and reached towards the small of his back. By the time he even realized what he was doing it was too late as he tried desperately to catch the dagger that'd already left his fingertips. He was helpless to do anything but watch as the dagger sailed end over end before coming to a stop directly in the demons heart.

The demon blinked, looked down at the dagger sticking out from its chest, and then looked back up. "You…little elven shit." The demon cursed, blood falling from its lips. Reaching up to its chest the demon roughly yanked the dagger out. Blood began running freely down its front as the demon casually looked the dagger over before tossing it aside. "You may have ended this body…but in the end elf…I still win."

Time slowed as Mahanon watch as the demon possessing Mihris fell first to its knees and then onto its back. "Mihris!"

He took three steps, maybe four, before three pairs of arms wrapped around his middle tackling him to the ground. "Stop Lavellan!" Solas groaned as he, Varric, and Harding held him in place. "That isn't-"

"I don't care!" Mahanon yelled trying to fight them off.

After several more attempts to shake his handlers off, Mahanon dropped heavily to the ground. Whatever spell the demon had cast did its job. His body felt completely drained and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get a handle on his magic.

Laying completely limp under the weight of his three companions he was powerless to do anything as he watched Cassandra limp into his vision. Her sword was drawn and her sight focused solely on the downed Mihris. "Don't…"Mahanon begged knowing what the Seeker had planned. "Please…dear Creator's just…don't…I'll do anything you want! I'll be your Herald, or whatever! Just please…don't…not like this…please…not like this."

Cassandra spared him a sympathetic glance, but didn't halt in her advance. Once she was standing directly over Mihris the Seeker raised her sword tip down…and stopped.

Mahanon watched, unwilling to look away, as Cassandra stood stock still above his love. "Solas…" She sighed, returning her sword to the sheath on her hip. "Let him go."

As soon as the weight against his back lessened he was off like an arrow, shooting across the dimly lit cavern and gathering Mihris up in his arms. His eyes were first drawn to the wound in her chest, the wound he caused, that was allowing her life to leave her. When he looked upon her face though his heart stopped. Her eyes were half lidded, but they were open all the same. The malice filled yellow eyes of the demon were gone. Replaced once more with Mihris sea green eyes. "Mihris…" He whispered, placing his hand over her chest in a futile attempt to stem the tide of blood. "Please Mihris…hold on. I – I can heal you an –"

Her soft fingers against his lips silenced him. "Y-you can't…_ma vhenan_. Th-the demon's gone. But I-I can fe-eel it on the e-dge of my-my mind. If you h-h-heal me…it will co-come back."

"She's right Mahanon." Solas said, ignoring the glare Mahanon sent his way. "If a demon is still in control when their host dies, they experience a pain far greater than we could possibly understand. To prevent this, a demon will abandon the body of a fatally wounded host. But if you heal her, the demon will come back to claim her."

'_Damn it.'_ He cursed tightening his hold on Mihris. '_It can't end like this! I can't lose her now. Not after just getting her back. The Creators can't be this cruel!_

"Leave us." Mahanon whispered just loud enough to be heard by all the occupants of the room.

"Mahanon," Cassandra said cautiously, limping towards him while holding onto her side. "We don't know if-"

"I said leave us!" He shouted, glaring up at the Seeker, daring her to second guess him once more.

Luckily, for her sake, Cassandra choose not to press the matter. "As you wish Herald. We will be outside should you have need of us."

Mahanon didn't watch as his companions left him and Mihris. Keeping his left arm under her shoulders, he began to gently run the fingers of his right hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry _ma vhenan."_ He whispered brokenly.

Weak finger's grasped ahold of his hand, bringing it down to her lips. "It's no-not you're f-f-fault _m-ma vhen…_I…this is my…doing."

Mahanon felt himself breaking. This had to be a cruel joke. The Creator's wouldn't have brought her back into his life just to take her from him once more. They weren't that cruel. Were they? "Maha-_cough -a_non?"

"I'm here _ma vhenan."_

Mihris coughed once more staining her lips red. Pulling down the sleeve of his robe he carefully wiped away at her lips. "Y-you can't-can't let th-em w-w-win…_ma…vhenan._ Th-e demons…don't let them…win."

He didn't try and stop his tears as they fell down his face. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. "And you're going to be right beside me as I do it." He whispered.

Smiling Mihris leaned her head into his chest. "Yes…I will…but…not as y-you think. I wi-ill always be…be with you. Mahanon…could y-you…could you s-s-sing for…me?"

Tightening his hold on her he clenched his eyes as more and more tears fell freely. All Keepers, Firsts, and Seconds were required to learn the songs of old. The songs that were sung at times of death. The same songs he never wanted to sing for her. "Yes."

Smiling up at him, Mihris brought her fingers up to her lips before pressing them against his own. "Tha-ank you..._ma…vhenan."_

Leaning down he gently brushed his lips against her forehead. He didn't want to sing. Not like this and not for her. But despite his heart battling him to stop, the words still left his lips barely louder than a whisper. "_Hahren na melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas, souver'inan isala hamin. Vhenan him do'felas, in uthenera na revas. Vir sulahn'nehn, vir dirthera. Vir samahl la numi…vir lath…sa'vunin."_

* * *

Cassandra was never one for waiting. Her mentor's had always berated her for being too quick, too reckless. They always pressed the need for patience with her and she always shrugged off their teachings. But with the sun now slowly setting behind her, and having paced back and forth in front of the cave so many times she'd lost count, Cassandra cursed the stupidity of her youth. She certainty could've used those lessons in patience's now.

It hadn't taken Solas long to heal the injuries she'd obtained during her brief bout with the demon. And after explaining the situation to Mother Giselle and the rest of scouting party upon their arrival she was left with nothing to do but wait.

Part of her, a large part, wanted to go in there and drag Mahanon out by his ear. Did he think he was alone in his suffering? She'd lost her mentor the Divine and her mage lo – friend…when the Breach was formed. But she didn't break down. She fought on. The only thing that was truly stopping her from marching in after the blasted elf was Leliana's and Josephine's words. They needed Mahanon if this Inquisition was to succeed. They needed his cooperation. And part of this little outing was to try and gain his trust. Any ground she'd gained in that respect would be lost the instant she marched in there. So pushing down her aggravation she waited…and waited…and waited.

"Stop pacing Seeker. You're going to wear a whole in the ground." Varric scoffed from his spot next to the low burning fire the scouting party had set up in preparation for the evening meal. "He'll come out when he's ready. He just lost the woman he loved. He's hurt and broken…not that'd you'd be able to understand."

Sighing loudly Cassandra rounded on the dwarf. "That is quite enough Varric. It is long past time for you to stop playing the wounded party with me!"

Varric snorted. "Ignoring the times you actually wounded me I suppose I could do that."

Cassandra's irritation with Varric, coupled with the insufferable waiting for Mahanon, was quickly driving her to the edge. "I did no such thing!" She nearly hissed advancing on the dwarf. To his credit Varric didn't seem the least bit intimidated by her. If anything he looked…amused. "I questioned you! And that was all!"

One of Varric's eyebrows rose as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Sure you questioned me. After your men trashed _my_ bar, chained me, and dragged me through the streets like a criminal."

Cassandra was very close to wringing the dwarf's neck. Surely the Herald wouldn't miss his presence all that much. "I could've done _much_ worse to you dwarf and with full justification. I took it easy on you."

"Yeah, thank you for not torturing me Seeker." Varric added snidely. "I feel so much better about everything now that you've explained it like that."

"Enough!" Mother Giselle single word while soft, stopped Cassandra quicker than a charging ogre.

Rising from her place on the other side of the fire the Mother stood between the two. "The past is the past. It cannot be changed. You two have a choice. You can either let old wounds fester until they rot away at your soul, or you can move past what happened."

"Fine." Varric grumbled, picking up his crossbow and slinging it over his shoulder. "Just don't be expecting any Feastday or saturnalia day gifts from me Seeker and…well I guess our waiting is over."

Turning heel Cassandra spun around towards the entrance of the cave. Standing just beyond the stone archway was Mahanon. His eyes were red and shining and his cheeks were stained with tears. In his arms he was carrying the limp form of Mihris. Maker's breath he looked so…broken.

Not sparing a single word or glance for anyone, he marched through the hastily erected camp, his arms curled tightly around Mihris body as if he were afraid someone would try and take her from him. Once through the camp he continued onward away from the rocky path and into a small grouping of trees.

Fairly confused as to what he was doing, Cassandra said nothing as he began digging into the ground with his foot. After a few minutes of that he seemed to find what he was looking for and knelt down, gently placing Mihris's body down, and began clawing at the soft soil with his bare hands.

"Harding." Cassandra said out of corner of her mouth. "Bring a spade and-"

"Peace child." Mother Giselle said laying a hand on her arm. "Times like these call for a more personal touch."

Without another word Mother Giselle left her side and proceeded over towards where Mahanon was crawling away. She paused only once, right as she drew up beside Mahanon, before kneeling down. Mahanon's hands stopped as his head turned towards the intruder. For the briefest of moments Cassandra feared that he might actually strike at the Mother but her surprise Mahanon merely nodded once and returned to digging. With Mother Giselle copying his actions a second later.

Mother Giselle's actions were quickly mimicked by Solas, then Varric, and then Harding. By the time Cassandra was finally able to shake herself out of her self-imposed stupor nearly all of the scouting party were kneeling next to Mahanon, helping him dig the grave.

Forcing down her feelings of irritation, Cassandra took the only spot left, which just happened to place her right next to Mahanon. His hands stilled as she knelt down next to him. As she began digging she could've sworn that she heard him mutter something along the lines of 'thanks'.

Losing herself in the methodic movements Cassandra allowed her mind to wander. In the frantic scramble that followed the destruction of the temple and the death of the Divine she hadn't allowed herself the chance to properly grieve. And now sitting here digging her mind's eye shifted her sight. She wasn't digging this grave for Mihris or Mahanon. She was digging this grave for herself…for the Divine and for…for Regalyan. Unbidden, memories of both began flashing through her mind as tears began forming in the corner of her eyes.

So far gone was she in her memories that she didn't even realize that they'd already dug to arms depth until Mahanon suddenly stood up beside her. Taking a cue from Mother Giselle Cassandra, and the rest of the scouting part, stood up and moved back a respectful distance.

Moving slowly, Mahanon lifted Mihris's body and gently placed it into the freshly dug grave. Grabbing a handful of dirt Mahanon began leaving a trail of soil starting at her head and moving down the length of her body. "Falon'Din Lethanavir…friend of the dead. Guide her feet, calm her soul…lead this child to her rest. V_ir lath sa'vunin."_

Fighting back her own tears, Cassandra and the rest of the scouting party stood by stoically as Mahanon proceeded to fill the grave. Before Mahanon could finish adding all the soil, Solas placed a hand on Mahanon's shoulder. In the elder elf's hand was a single acorn. Before she could wonder as to its purpose, Mahanon planted the acorn on top of the fresh grave. Once the acorn was completely covered Mahanon held his hand over it and began a soft chant. And as if he were forcibly pulling it from the ground, a small sapling started sprouting upwards using his hand as a guide. As the tree approached nearly waist high, Mahanon ended his chant, stopping the trees growth.

"From death shall life spring forth." Mother Giselle commented giving clarity to Cassandra and the others who didn't fully understand the significance of what'd just happened. "A beautiful sentiment…and one we can all learn from."

Mahanon didn't comment on what Mother Giselle had said. He merely gave caressed the freshly grown tree one time and then turned his back on it. Cassandra hadn't noticed until that moment, but Mahanon was now carrying two staff's. One was undoubtedly his and the other was carved in much the same manner but had different markings a glowing blue crystal on its end. "Let's go. I've seen more than enough of this land to last a lifetime." Mahanon said, and Cassandra wanted to wince. His voice was completely devoid of all life and emotion.

While the scouting party began setting about striking the camp so they could move out, Cassandra stayed rooted before the tree. "I'll take care of him." She said to the tree, and immediately felt incredibly stupid for doing so. It wasn't as if Mihris could hear her.

But as Cassandra turned her back on the small tree a gust of wind tickled her back and rustled her hair. And she could've sworn that she'd heard 'thank you' being whispered into her ear.


End file.
